#also one time I tried on a pair of docs in my usual size and they DIDN'T hurt after an hour and I thought they were too big

[strawberry-cowmilk]

I realised I never knew comfort until I put on shoes that were a just right/ a little too big from the box

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter three: you make me nervous

Pedro Pascal x F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing,  use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses. 

authors note: Hi everyone. I just posted chapter two a few hours ago but my mind was buzzing with ideas lol. This chapter has a lot of awkward energy so I apologize in advance. Enjoy <3

chapter summary: y/n attends the table read for Risky Disco and gets to know Pedro. 

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The week leading up to the table read seemed to drag on. Even though you kept yourself busy, it was like every time you looked at a clock, it ticked slower and slower. You were somewhat grateful for the delay as it gave you more time to prepare yourself for your first day working on Risky Disco. Not only did it delay your first day of work, it also delayed having to see Pedro again. You felt so silly. One ten minute interaction was invading your entire nervous system. To prepare yourself to see him again, you started watching interviews and clips of him acting. You wanted to know what his personality was like so you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself when you two are bound to cross paths fairly soon. Whenever you weren’t working your server job, you were reading through your script or watching videos on Pedro. You felt kind of weird finding out things about him when he would know nothing about you, but hey that’s the price of fame right? People knowing things about someone without that person knowing anything about them. 

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The table read was set to start at 9am. So naturally, you were up at 5am to get ready for the day. You took a quick shower and started to decide what to wear. Trying to keep comfort in mind, you scanned your closet for an outfit. Table reads usually include a lot of sitting so you knew you didn’t want to wear anything too tight around your stomach. You hated when you sat and your jeans would dig into your stomach or when your ‘baggy’ jeans tightened around your thigh when it flattened against whatever you were sitting on. You really wanted to look as cute as possible though, for yourself of course, not for anyone else…

You decided to wear a pair of sheer black pantyhose, with black shorts pulled over them, accompanied by a simple black v neck long sleeve shirt. For shoes you wore your trusty pair of classic docs. Once you were dressed, you worked on your hair and makeup, keeping it fairly simple. Looking at the time, it was now 7am. You made a quick breakfast and drank a cup of coffee. After you finished eating, you grabbed a tote bag and filled it with all of your essentials: your script, chapstick, lipstick, perfume, deodorant, and wallet. You then filled up your reusable water bottle, grabbed your keys and made your way out of the door. 

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The table read was taking place in the same building as the audition, making it a lot easier to find where to go and park. After parking your car, it was 8:30. You decided to go ahead and go inside. When you walked in, you spoke to a receptionist who told you what room to go to. As you neared the room, you realized that you were the first person here and for some reason that was embarrassing for you. Instead of going in, you lingered near the door and tried to look busy on your phone. After five minutes of opening and closing different apps, you heard someone walking down the hallway. You kept your head down and pretended to text someone so you didn’t look like such a loser. 

“Hey, y/n right?” 

Your entire body tensed up, you know that voice. You know that voice a little too well after all of your ‘research’. 

“I’m Pedro, I read lines with you during your audition.” You finally looked up and you almost let out a gasp. He was wearing a pair of light denim jeans, a basic black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. You let your eyes meet his and you saw that he also sported a baseball style cap with a pair of glasses. In conclusion, he looked good. Too fucking good. 

“Oh yeah that’s me. Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you.” You let out the words better than you thought you would. He gives you a smile and raises his hand to offer a handshake. You reach out and latch your hand to his. His hand was soft yet rough at the same time and it engulfed yours in a perfect way. You both let go and stand in silence for a moment. 

“So, just us so far?” he asked as he looked around. “Yea, I guess so. I feel like such a weenie getting here so early.” You cringed at your choice of words but Pedro let out a laugh. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t say you're a weenie.” he said with emphasis on the word ‘weenie’. “You’re professional, early is good.” You gave him a thankful smile. “I had this theater teacher that would hound us for not being on time. She would always say ‘early is on time and- ""-and on time is late.” he finishes the phrase for you and the two of you both let out a small laugh. “You hear that a lot in the acting world. Yet no one seems to follow it.” He says while looked down at his phone to check the time. 

Silence falls over you two and you start fidgeting with your fingers as a distraction. “Hey, why don’t we go ahead and sit down. We can show off our skills of being on time to all of the late weenies.” He smiles and you laugh at his use of weenie again. Pedro opens the door for you and you let out a quick thank you. As you walk in, you see a large table with name tags in front of each chair. You glance around the table, searching for your name. Once you found it, you made your way to your chair and Pedro took a seat right next to you. 

He was so close to you and it was too intense. First he comes in looking like sex on legs, now he’s sitting only a few inches away from you. He smells so good. You wish you could just- “You don’t walk much do you?” he asked as he turned to look at you. You do the same. “Sorry, I don’t want you to think I don’t want to talk to you. I do. I just get weird around new people and don’t really know how to act and I just have horrible people skills in general sometimes. You also kind of make me really nervous.” You shut up and quickly turn to face forward with a blush on your face. “I make you nervous?” He asked. You gave him a quick glance and saw that he had that stupid smirk on his face. You actually can’t believe you just said that out loud. You had never been someone who got the nervous rambles. You usually just give a short answer and keep quiet. You were so humiliated it was unbearable. Luckily, the room began to fill up with other actors and crew members. You felt Pedro shift beside you and your leg started bouncing out of nervous habit. 

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The table read was surprisingly uneventful. You had been nervous to read lines back and forth with Pedro but somehow your mind locks in when it’s time to act. You could still feel the intensity, especially when it came to the scene that led up to the steamy moment between the main characters. You just ignored the butterflies and kept reading. 

Once it was over, the director gave a little speech and the crew gave us a few notices. Letting everyone know to check their emails frequently for any changes made to the schedule. As soon as they released everyone for the day, you gathered your things and began to make the walk back to your car. Just as you were grabbing your door handle, you heard your name being called. When you looked up Pedro was jogging over to you. “Hi.” He said as he stopped in front of you. “Uhh hi.” You said awkwardly, still embarrassed from earlier. “Would you maybe want to hang out, get to know each other a little bit? We’ll be spending a lot of time together on screen and I would love to get to know you outside of filming and stuff.” All you could do is stand there and look at him. “I’ll try my best not to make you nervous.” He teased as he smiled brightly at you awaiting an answer. “If I agree to this, you have to promise to not make me nervous.” You held your pinky up and he linked his with yours, locking in his promise. You both dropped your hands. “So uh, what do you want to do?” “I honestly didn’t think that far ahead, I was just trying to catch you before you left.” You look down at the ground and think. “I mean you could come to my place. It’s small and there’s not much to do but we can just hang around and talk I guess…” You trail off at the end looking up at him. “Yea that sounds perfect.” There's a pause… “Uh, do you want me to give you my address or something?” “Oh yea here, let me give you my number so you can send it to me.” You pull out your phone and go to create a new contact. You hand your phone to him and he types in his number. When he hands it back, you notice that he set his contact name to ‘Pedro :)’. You smiled a little and opened the message app and sent him your address. “I just sent it. Did you get it?” He grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Yea I got it.” another pause… “Uh okay cool well, I’ll see you there I guess.” “Yea see you there.” He smiles. “Just text me or something when you get there so you don’t get lost in my apartment complex.” 

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When you got home and hadn’t received a text from Pedro yet, you ran inside and quickly cleaned up as much as you could and sprayed some air freshener. 

‘I’m here :)’

Shit. You checked your appearance in the mirror before running out of the door and down to the parking lot. When you saw him, you started rethinking your entire life that led up to this point. What did you do to deserve having a sexy ass man want to hang out and get to know you?? I mean it’s for work purposes but still, it counts in your head as something more. You saw him get out of his car and make his way over to you. “Hi, um, follow me.” God why did you have to be so weird. “Okie dokie, lead the way.”. Once the two of you reached your apartment, you opened the door and walked inside. “You can take your shoes off if you want, I don’t really care but if you’d be more comfortable you can.” You look at him and he’s smiling at you. “Sorry, I don’t know why I keep rambling.”. You sigh and usher him to follow you to the living room. He takes off his jacket and hat. The sight of his biceps in that tight ass black shirt almost has you drooling. You try to collect yourself as quickly as possible before he notices anything. You take off your doc martens and plop down on the couch. You pat the couch and he sits on the other end. This is so fucking awkward oh my god. 

“Do you want anything to drink or something?”.

“No it’s okay, thank you though.” 

“No problemo.” 

Silence.. 

“Is there anything specific you want to know or um..” You look at him and quickly look away. “Sorry I'm really not good at meeting new people and being myself.” Your leg starts to bounce. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry. You told me you had trouble with new people and I sprung this on you.” His eyes move around the room. “You don’t have to be sorry. I promise I want to get to know you too, I just don’t really know how to do that.” 

He thinks for a moment. 

“How about we start with what we already know about each other, then we can ask each other questions based on that? Sound good?” You nod. 

“I can go first. I know your name is y/n. I also know that you’re 35 and that you’re an actress.” You squint your eyebrows together. 35? Where the hell did he get that from? You think for a moment.. Oh fuck. You completely forgot that Angie said you were 35 to get the audition.  

“Oh um yeah. Well I know your name is Pedro, I think you’re 49 but I’m honestly not that sure, and I also know that you’re an actor.” oh yea totally believable that you didn’t know this man's age  by adding an ‘I think’ super smooth…

“How long have you been acting?” 

“Well I moved here like six years ago, almost seven at this point. I did some theater in high school. So however long that is. This is my first big role though.” “That’s surprising.” “What is?” “That this is your first big role.” “Why do you say that?” “Sweetheart, your audition was incredible. You were a natural.” 

Sweetheart 

“Oh um thank you. I’d like to think I’m good.” “You are good.” He sets his hand on your thigh and squeezes as he speaks and immediately retracts his hand. You can still feel the warmth of his quick touch and the spot tingles. Your heart is beating at an unhealthy speed. You look down at your thigh and back to his stupid handsome smiling face.

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The two of you continued to talk and get to know each other. You spoke about acting, family, interests, hobbies. Once the conversation flowed more, it was easier to let loose and talk to him without stuttering every two seconds. 

Pedro was laughing at something you said when your stomach growled. 

“Oh my god that is so embarrassing.” You hide your face in your hands. “No need to be embarrassed sweetheart.” There was that name again. “I should leave soon, I didn’t realize it was so late already.” You really wanted him to stay. “You don’t have to go. I was probably going to order something if you wanted to join me.” You offered hoping he would say yes. “I don’t want to be a bother, I’ll get out of your hair.” “Oh. Okay.”. He stood up and stretched his arms up, making his shirt raise just enough for you to catch a glance at his lower tummy. You quickly looked away and stood up as well. 

He put his hat and jacket back on. “Well I should head out.” “Yea.. yea um I’ll walk you out.” You both started walking towards the door. “I’ll see you soon yea? Next time you better not be all shy again you hear me?” “No promises. You make me nervous, remember?.” He chuckles. You open the door for him. He gives you a quick goodbye and then he's gone. You close the door and make your way back to the couch to sit down. You ordered some food and tried to process everything that happened today. 

As you were eating, you got a text. 

Pedro :) 

I had a lot of fun today, we should do it again. 

You start to text a reply but before you can hit send, another text comes through. 

Pedro :) 

Did I mention that you looked really beautiful today? 

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Thank you for reading <3

next chapter

[and-knowing-is-half-the-battle]

Winterrogation, Chapter 4: The Experiment

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Summary: The Winter Soldier has had his memory erased, but the doctor has a use for you yet.

Pairing: Winter soldier x fem!reader

Work Count: 1.6K

Warnings: sex pollen, minors DNI, dubcon/noncon, noncon exhibition, penetrative sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, humiliation, creampie.

A/N: Do not copy, translate, repost or rewrite my work, even if you credit me. I do not give my permission for my works to be copied or shared on other sites.

Picture source: bucky-daddy

________________________________________________________

You had sat alone in the Winter Soldier’s quarters for at least a day. You were confused by the recent events between you, but now knew for certain that he was a prisoner as well. A dangerous one. Despite that, you had found yourself actively worrying about him after they had taken him away at gunpoint. And then there were the guttural screams you had heard. You didn’t sleep well, those screams hard to shake from your head. 

During your boredom, you had started to leaf through his military strategy books, surprised when a small, white feather fell out of one. You admired it in the lamp light, it’s delicate tendrils long and soft. Maybe there was more to him than you had seen. 

While staring at it for the thousandth time, you heard the bars being removed from the doors. You guiltily placed it back in the book and shut it, not wanting him to see you invading his privacy, despite staying in his room. You were surprised to discover two guards behind the door, who once again escorted you without explanation down the hall, holding you by your arms. You lost track of the turns, your heart racing with fear. You found yourself in a room with at least a dozen men milling around and a large observation window behind them. The guards pulled you out of the way, into the corner, and held you in place. You unconsciously craned to see around the men and through the window until one of the guards yanked you firmly back into place.

“Gentlemen, may I have your attention,” one middleaged man said, standing with his back to the window. The room stilled. “Today we have a unique opportunity to test what our research team has developed. We have long been curious about its effects on super soldiers,” he gestured behind him, and you could finally see a nearly empty room, excepting the Winter Soldier in a chair, back rigid, eyes forward. 

“Administer the pollen,” he snapped his fingers in the air, and a man left the room, reappearing on the other side of the window. He approached the unflinching Winter Soldier and injected him in the neck with a red substance. “It should take around 5 minutes to take effect. Let us introduce the target,” he gestured again, and you felt yourself being pulled across the room. The guards pulled you through the door and shoved you inside before latching it behind you. You would still hear the man’s words, though it was muffled by the thick glass. 

“The target is known to the Winter Soldier, but he has undergone a memory wiping as of yesterday. It is known that they are sexually compatible,” he went on as you struggled to process what you just heard, “now let us observe the results. The pollen has reduced regular men to lustful dogs,” he chuckled, and the room joined, “unable to find peace until they complete in a target, but let us finally see how a super soldier reacts.” You shuddered at their detachment and amusement at your predicament. 

You could now see that there was also a metal table to the side, and you gravitated toward it, feeling vulnerable in the large open space. The Winter Soldier continued to sit at attention in the center of the room. Did he even hear what they had said? You decided to approach him, and did so cautiously. They had said his memory had been wiped, which you didn’t even know was possible, but they also said you had a few minutes before the pollen likely took effect. 

As always, you were intimidated by his sheer size as you moved in front of him. His eyes took a moment, but seemed to focus on you. You stepped forward slowly, with your hands out in front of you, again feeling that you were approaching a large animal, rather than a man. You searched for any hint of recognition, but were disappointed to find none. Like he was looking through you. 

“Are you ok?” you asked in a low voice, “Did they hurt you?” His face didn’t change, but something told you he could hear you. You took a risk and stepped even closer. You could hear his heavy breath and see his chest gently moving in and out. You swallowed thickly, unsure of how to address him, despite how intimate you had been. “Are you alright?” you tried again, afraid to breathe.

The change was sudden. His eyes darkening, his jaw tightening, and his fists clenching at his sides. His groan of pain rang off the walls as he closed his eyes and stood, the chair flung like a toy behind him. Fear ripped through your gut as he towered above you, but your feet felt cemented to the floor. 

He groaned again, teeth bared in a grimace, muscles on his neck bulging. His chest heaved and his eyes snapped open, then found you. 

Your feet mercifully began to work as you stumbled back, trying to escape. It took him one step to catch up with you, his large hand grabbing your arm and rooting you in place. You turned to face him, terrified of what you would see. You had seen him lustful before, but his eyes were feral. He pulled you into him, biting into your neck with force. You cried out in pain, trying to push away uselessly. While still clamped down on you, he grabbed the hem of your shirt and literally ripped it to the neck, his hands desperately seeking your skin. Despite yourself, you could feel a wetness grow between your legs. 

Shit. You forgot he can smell it. He pulled back, forcefully pulling your tattered shirt away from you, then tearing at your pants. His flesh forearm pulled your lower back firmly toward him, allowing you to feel his giant bulge. He growled at the contact, rutting against you while he buried his face against your hair. Your face was pressed against his chest, and his smell overwhelmed you, woody and familiar. 

He lifted you effortlessly by your ass, you instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around him to keep from falling. He crashed you onto the table and his face pushed into you, licking and biting along your neck, chest, and abdomen while his hands roamed hungrily. He bit onto your bra impatiently as he shoved his metal hand down your underwear, his fingers entering your pussy with ease. You moaned as he pumped them into you repeatedly, and your head fell back, feeling your self control start to unravel. 

That’s when you heard the cheering. The men observing you were hooting at the sight before them, and your cheeks heated in embarrassment. 

“Please, no,” you weakly begged as his thumb found your clit, circling it deliciously as he pressed his erection against your knee. When you tried to sit up, his flesh hand found your throat and held you down. This display of dominance worked against you as you felt a familiar warm sensation building deep inside you.

“Not here, not here,” you chanted, your vision starting to blur from his grasp. When his teeth pulled your bra down enough to find your nipple, you snapped, your orgasm coursing through you as you bucked in his grasp, wailing. As you came down, you heard lascivious commentary coming from the observation room. 

“Did you see that?!”

“I’d like to try her next!”

“Doc, can I bring this stuff home to my wife?”

The Winter Soldier was unaffected by their noises, dropping his hands to pull at his pants. The button flew off, hitting the wall with an audible crack, as he revealed his impressive cock. You found yourself clenching at the sight of it, wondering if it had somehow gotten even bigger. 

He pulled you roughly to the edge of the table and pushed your underwear to the side, entering you slowly and letting out a cry of relief as his head fell back. Your walls accommodated him as you gasped for air, totally stuffed full. You never got used to how he hit all your spots at once. It occurred to you in some corner of your already cockdrunk brain that you had never seen him this raw before. He was usually in complete control. 

When he began to thrust, you melted onto the table, keening rhythmically as you held the edge to brace yourself. He held your hips tightly, going deeper and faster than you remembered, and you were lost, everything gone but the sensation. The table scraped loudly across the floor, inches at a time, until it hit the wall and there was nowhere else to go. His face was red and covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes screwed closed, mouth hanging open as he panted. You were mesmerized by his every twitch, drinking in how you could read him so well. 

He reached his flesh hand down to play with your clit again, your moans becoming louder. You knew how he liked to feel you cum around him to push him over the edge. This time you paid the audience no mind as you arched, waves of pleasure crashing over you again and again. He groaned in appreciation as he came inside you, his hips eventually stilling. He leaned over you, both of you panting for a moment before he pulled out. 

He seemed to come to his senses then, tucking himself quickly back inside his pants and backing away from you, not meeting your eyes. You pushed yourself gingerly off the table, testing your shaky legs. 

“Well gentlemen, it would seem it has a strong effect, but he was able to stave it off enough to consider the target’s pleasure. We will continue with our research to see what adjustments need to be made, and will provide you with a copy of our report from today’s findings. Clean this up,” the man waved his hand dismissively, and guards entered the room to whisk you off once again. 

Chapter 5

[awheckery]

HAVIN A WEIRD ONE, Y’ALL

cut for discussion of chronic illness treatment and weird medication effects; as has been previously established, my body is a horror show, but this is odd even for me

two months ago I crawled into the office to see my wonderful new rheumatologist because I was having An Bad Time, and it turned out I’m one of the unfortunate folks for whom Plaquenil is not a feasible treatment option - it was doing an all right job of mostly keeping my immune system in check buuuuuuuut it was tearing up my insides so much it was tanking my quality of life

(I was also coming off a brutal six weeks of asthma flareup chased by maybe-covid chased by respiratory infection. this year has been non-optimal for me, healthwise)

at that time, my doc sent me home with a steroid prescription I’ve been taking since then, and three weeks ago we added an immunosuppressant named leflunomide to the cocktail

things have been Okay? I’m making it to work more often than not, and I’ve had the energy and gumption to throw myself into a crafty project for the first time in a good long while

and then last week I noticed something was wrong with my feet.

namely, that they had fucking shrunk.

that. is not a usual turn of events.

steroids like prednisone are known to cause fluid retention and swelling, so if anything one would expect one’s feet to puff up, but suddenly I was pulling the buckles on my shoes a full centimeter and a half tighter to keep them secure on my feet, and they just fit differently, the edge of the toe box started hitting a different part of my foot, I am thirty-six years old this is not normal

never let it be said I was not methodical in double-checking that I wasn’t just losing my fucking mind again. I collect Hot Chocolate Design shoes, which are remarkable in the consistency of their sizing, and I double-checked the fit in all nineteen pairs I own, just to be sure I hadn’t somehow stretched out a few from wearing socks and/or insoles, but it was pretty damn clear that somehow, I had lost half a shoe size in a v. v. short amount of time

theory: I am on steroids and a serious immunosuppressant, maybe they’ve taken down some long-standing inflammation I wasn’t aware of?

counterpoint: I have worn the same shoe size for well over a decade, and it has stayed the same through multiple major weight and activity changes

counter counterpoint: yeah but my feet have hurt that whole time like?

counter counter counterpoint: yeah true but I was working retail that whole time and that is really hard on the body

counter counter counter counterpoint: I am not a doctor, there may be some concerning reason why my feet have suddenly gotten smaller, I should consult a medical professional just in case this continues and I suddenly can’t wear my nineteen pairs of fantastic statement shoes

.

so I emailed my rheumatologist.

in the interim, I tried google, and even with all my fantastical powers I wasn’t able to summon a halfway satisfactory answer, unless I somehow have a spontaneous mutation for something like extremely atypical extremely late-onset Charcot-Marie-Tooth, which is just. no. I am already a weird outlier with two seronegative autoimmune diseases and a mess of hereditary neuroses, I am experiencing something strange here but not statistically impossible.

my rheumatologist got back to me this afternoon, and I apparently continue to be the rarest, most beautiful unicorn ever, because despite his decades of medical practice and research in four different countries he has never seen nor heard of a patient’s feet suddenly shrinking. that said, his best guess is my best guess, he can’t think of any other possible explanation besides better living through massive immunosuppression, but he would like me to inform him immediately if anything else remotely odd crops up.

love that weird outlier life.

[plus-size-reader]

Crush

Kurt Wagner x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1734 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Jubilee and Scott set up the reader and Kurt. 

——————————————————————————————————

Kurt had a crush.

He tried his hardest to keep it to himself, making sure that no one noticed, but unfortunately for him, Kurt just wasn’t that subtle.  

As soon as Jubilee took notice of the way Kurt was eyeing you in that Journeys, she knew that he had a huge crush and she also knew that something had to be done about it.

Kurt was shy, and would never do anything about his feelings for you if it was up to him.

Every one of his friends knew that.

That was part of the reason he was here, in the mall again. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t really of his own fruition.

The four of them; Scott, Jubilee, Jean, and Kurt, had been at the mall a few days ago, mostly out of boredom. There was little to do around here other than mindless shopping or sneaking out to see shows at the park.

There wasn’t much for a bunch of mutant teens to do other than that. However, they had more of a reason to be here today than stifling their unending boredom.

They wanted to introduce you to Kurt, at least before the end of the day.

It wasn’t going to be an easy feat, as most of it had to be done behind their blue friends back, who would surely panic if he found out. Luckily, he showed no sign of concern quite yet.

Instead, he followed behind both Scott and Jubilee who led the pack as usual, heading toward the food court.

That was always their first stop, mostly because Jean refused to listen to Scott complaining about his empty stomach for the next few hours as Jubilee searched for some new knee socks.

It was the one condition she’d put in place for tagging along to these sorts of things. That, and the Professor demanded that she go with them to get away from her studies for a few hours.

If he didn’t, she would have stayed within the walls of the Academy. It was safer there. She couldn’t hurt anyone, and while she would never admit it, by this point, Jean was starting to look forward to spending time with her friends at the mall.

Not that she would have advised something like this if they had asked her first. As someone who didn’t like to be caught off guard, she never would have led Kurt into a trap like they were.

Jubilee and Scott both knew that, of course, but that was why they hadn’t asked her. It would be much better to just let her watch from afar.

Besides, both young mutants had implicit faith in the fact that this whole thing was going to be nothing but good.

They had seen the way Kurt watched you, doing his best to keep it from being obvious, and he didn’t know it, but you did the same. Every six or seven minutes, you would make your rounds asking the group of them if they needed anything.

Maybe it could be explained as you just doing your job but Scott didn’t think so. You always addressed your words at Kurt more than anyone else. Scott was no stranger to a girl with a crush, and he’d know that look anywhere. Frankly, he’d bet anything on the fact that you were into his shy little buddy, all he had to do was prove it.

...And prove it, he would.

“You know guys, I’m not really hungry. Maybe we can skip the food court for a while” Scott started, doing his best to be inconspicuous, though he wasn’t that good of an actor.

He and Jubilee had practiced this a few times last night, going through how they were going to get Kurt a date, and she was quick to pick up the slack.

So quick, in fact, that neither Jean nor Kurt took much notice to how strange they were being.

“That’s okay. I have to get a new set of laces for my boots though, so we better hit the journeys while we’re right here” she interjected, not even batting an eye.

It was a good lie.

Jubilee had several pairs of sneakers and boots that she loved to customize with bright colored laces and charms. As far as excuses went, it couldn’t have been better.

No one spoke for a moment or more as the gaggle of them made their way toward where the Journeys was located. It wasn’t something they even had to think about.

In fact, it was almost like their feet were moving on their own, muscle memory taking over to get them where they wanted to go. Kurt got much more quiet and reserved as they neared that place he knew so well. He thought about it a lot, or at least, he thought about you a lot.

The very idea of you busting around the place, buzzing around like a busy bee made his head spin. You were just trying to help as many people as possible, and were in no means frightening, but he couldn’t make himself speak to you.

It just seemed like something he couldn’t do.

Almost as if the action itself was some sort of sacreligious thing he couldn’t be allowed to do.

Still, as nervous as he was, Kurt couldn’t help but smile when he entered the store. It was sort of dingy, on purpose, and was heaven for teens like Jubilee and Peter.

Kurt himself had just never gotten that into those sorts of things. The sneakers that dressed his feet were the same that he wore every day, that he only replaced when he couldn’t wear them any longer.

“You guys can just wait out here if you want? I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes” Ju informed, eyeing the blue teenager out of the corner of her eye, practically watching him deflate.

He was relieved, of course, that he didn’t have to risk making a fool of himself but he had been looking forward to seeing you.

“Sounds good, we can just wait here” Jean stepped in now, taking a seat on one of the metal benches nearby, leaning up against a large green plant.

She wanted to go to the bookstore and anything else was a distraction from that. All she had to do was wait for everyone else to finish their errands before she could escape there.

“Is that okay Kurt? You didn’t need anything did you?” Scott questioned next, smirking at the taller male, who would have visibly blushed if he could have.

Every one of his friends was making it abundantly clear that they’d found him out, but still, he just shook his head. “No, that’s fine” he assured, his accent leaving his lips cautiously.

...And with that, Jubilee disappeared through the mouth of the store, a giddy skip in her step as she did.

This was what she’d been waiting for.

After all, she didn’t need any new laces after all.

Ju had ventured this way yesterday with Peter, striking up a conversation with you while the grey-haired teen searched for a new pair of white Doc Martens.

She learned about your schedule, and found out that you were just a really cool chick who happened to work in the mall. Then, toward the end of the conversation, she asked if you’d be interested in seeing a movie with her friend.

You were understandably apprehensive at first, but once she explained who it was, you agreed happily.

As it would turn out, Kurt wasn’t the only one with a crush.

You told Jubilee that you didn’t work today, assuming that would throw a wrench in her plans. However, you having the day off only worked in her favor.

That meant you would be able to spend all day with them, and more importantly, Kurt.

So, you agreed to meet in Journeys at this exact time with the prime objective of surprising the young male. Now, all that was left was to put it all into motion.

“Hey, you ready?” she grinned, approaching you with a wide smile on her face. She was beyond excited, and knowing what was coming only made her that much more excited.

All you did was nod, returning the side hug she gave you before following her outside the store, back to where she’d left all her friends waiting.

Scott smiled when he saw the two of you approaching, though Kurt didn’t even notice at first, his attention poised on the He-Man action figure Scott had bought him.

It was meant to be a joke at first, but Kurt actually really liked it. After all, he had only just started watching that show with Peter when it was on.

“Bad news. They didn’t have the laces I wanted, but I picked up something else instead” she started, reaching down to take your hand in her own, presenting you to the group of them in a near awkward way.

Had you not known about this beforehand, it would have been unbearable.

“Kurt, this is Y/N. I think you probably recognize her” Jubilee smiled, somehow even wider than before as she looked between the two of you, watching the magic happen.

She had always been obsessed with those rom-com movies she rented sometimes, and this was her chance to experience one in real life.

Of course she was excited.

“Hello Y/N” he spoke, taking a moment or two to collect himself before doing so. He just wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make you think he was completely out of his mind or something.

“Kurt, why don’t you take Y/N to go see a movie while we finish up here” Scott suggested, sending a wink in Jubilee’s direction as he handed over a few tickets he’d gotten before, to A Never Ending Story.

It wasn’t something he would have ever seen himself, but from the looks of it, it was probably something Kurt would find humor in and you’d already agreed to watch it.

By all accounts, it was perfect, and Kurt wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse so he only took the tickets from his friend and went off with you.

“Mission Accomplished” Ju grinned, high-fiving her best friend happily, and accomplished it was.

By the end of the movie, you and Kurt had another date in the wings.

[luxekook]

chapter one.

⇥ pairing: jungkook x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, hickies, drinking, tatted jungkook, nipple piercings

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter One

Fall of Junior Year – 8:57am

I curse every single decision that has brought me to this very moment as I power-walk across campus, sweating under the already blistering sun. Campus in August could easily be compared to a swamp given the amount of unearthly humidity, and I'm pretty sure I currently qualified as the local swamp thing.

The only positive feature in my morning has been the table of free coffee and doughnuts staffed by Student Government. The first day of the fall semester always seems to be accompanied by frantically wide-eyed freshmen and celebratory freebies. However, air conditioning is the only thing I would be celebrating today as I finally reach Tyson Hall – the destination of my 9:00am class.

As I rush to my classroom with one minute to spare, I slump into a seat in the far corner – my preferred location for people-watching out of the large windows and for getting away with doing homework for other classes.

Familiar faces surround me, an unsurprising observation given that this is our mandatory research seminar as psychology majors. I notice my friend Jenni sitting in the opposite corner, eyes glued to her phone screen.

Opening my laptop, I shoot her a text to come sit with me. Her head whips up, black braids moving every which way as she immediately piles up her things and hustles over, “(y/n), I forgot you were in this seminar! I just switched over from quantitative research because I couldn’t take any more statistics – or Dr. Harding.”

Dr. Harding is the dean of the psychology department and has been teaching here for ages. Feared by most psychology students for his tough grading and intimidating persona, he’s actually a huge softie – something I discovered by going to his office hours and seeing all 85 pictures of his grandchildren hanging throughout the room.

“He’s not that bad, Jen.”

She scoffs, “You would say that because you got an A in statistics like some sort of wizard. Besides, Dr. Newman is so much nicer.”

Jenni has an excellent point. Dr. Newman is the main reason I chose this seminar. As one of the most respected researchers at our university, she’s known for her qualitative studies on gender across cultures. I consider Dr. Newman to be a real badass woman and I lowkey stan her.

I turn to reply, but Dr. Newman begins taking attendance and class begins.

Fifty minutes later, Jenni practically drags me out of the classroom, “I cannot believe she kept us the whole 50 minutes. Is she aware that it’s syllabus week? It’s practically law to just read over the syllabus and then dismiss class. This is outrageous– (y/n), are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” I totally had tuned her out, focusing on the number of students flooding the quad. I had missed this – the rush of students heading to class, the yells of people greeting each other from entirely too far away, the buzz of excitement over potential parties…

“Unbelievable. How did I forget you have this whole weird-ass feminist crush on her?” Jenni forges forth, “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing tonight? You’re going out with us, right? Luna and I want to go to Hannigan’s.”

Since the three of us had all turned 21 over the summer, we finally could legally go to the bars in town. Hannigan’s currently holds the top spot on the list of bars that most of the upperclassman frequent. It’s a popular Irish pub downtown known for its cheap beer and mixed drinks.

It’s also BTS’s unofficial hangout – a fact that makes me slightly uneasy. After learning who the higher-ups are in BTS, I have taken to avoiding them like the plague. It was a relatively easy thing to do since the spring semester tended to be less focused on rushing and recruiting for fraternities and sororities.

But now it’s rush season, and I’m pretty much fucked. There will be no avoiding seeing BTS’s president Kim Namjoon out recruiting with his vice president Min Yoongi and his social chair Jung Hoseok. There will also be no avoiding pledge master Taehyung leading around new BTS pledges like a mother duckling. And don’t even get me started on how Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be popping up everywhere to advertise the latest BTS bash.

Sighing, I figure that the chances of actually bumping into them at the bar will be slim, given that it will most likely be super crowded and I can easily blend in.

I turn to Jenni as we keep walking towards our next classes, “Yeah, I’ll go to Hannigan’s. Are you going to come over to get ready at our place?”

Luna and I had moved into a cute little off-campus apartment over the summer. As it turned out, it’s cheaper to live off-campus than on-campus if you look hard enough. We also had it pretty good location-wise being just a few short blocks from both campus and downtown.

“Yes!” Jenni replies, slowing to a stop out front of the science building, “I’ll be over around 8 with tequila. I’ll text you later. I’ve got to go to neuro-psych lab now,” she rolls her eyes, “Hopefully we won’t be kept the whole time.”

Waving, we part ways, and I shake my head.

Tequila never leads to anything good.

Hannigan’s – 10:54pm

Fate seems to be on my side for once in my life. As soon as Luna, Jenni and I walk into Hannigan’s, my eyes are drawn to the back table where the BTS usually sits. It’s empty.

It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one else can sit there, and even though the bar is packed with all other tables accounted for, that one remains vacant – and for good reason.

Greek life essentially has a cult following around here. The Greeks provide status for those who are into that whole exclusivity thing. They also provide the best parties because of the size of their houses and because the university will never complain about one of their best sources of revenue.

I didn’t to rush a sorority way back in freshman year because I couldn’t feasibly afford it. The dues were way out of my price range, considering I was already paying for my education on my own. Luna, on the other hand, is in Epsilon Xi Delta (EXID) and consistently makes me and Jenni tag along to different Greek parties with her.

"Come on, bitches! Let's get some drinks," Jenni drags me and Luna through the packed room towards the bar that is already encircled by a crowd of thirsty students.

Tonight’s plan is simple – stick together, have fun, scope out cute seniors. Having already taken some shots before we left (saving that coin), we’re definitely feeling ourselves, flaunting our outfits like we didn’t spend a good hour picking them out earlier.

I had settled on a black t-shirt dress with a checkered flannel tied around the waist and some black Doc Martens. Luna and Jenni had tried to convince me to wear heels with them, but I knew syllabus week was a marathon – not a sprint. My feet would thank me later, and theirs would be crying.

As the bartender slides us our beers, the opening beats of Cocky AF by our badass queen Megan Thee Stallion blast through the speakers dispersed throughout the bar. Turning immediately to each other, we clink our beers together, take a sip, and head to the makeshift dance floor.

We squeeze and push our way through the masses until we reach a spot towards the back where the crowd has thinned out a little more. Within seconds, we’re in motion, hips swaying in time to Megan saying ‘bitch, I look good and you know that’.

Shaking out my hair, I get in the zone and lose count of how many songs we dance to. Eventually, our beers empty and Luna turns to me, “Another?" She accompanies her shouted question with an unnecessary charade of shot-gunning a beer in case I couldn’t hear her. I roll my eyes, laughing while I nod in response.

“Save our spot!” Jenni yells and disappears into the crowd of dancers with Luna towards the bar.

I continue dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I decide to put my hair up to try to cool off a little in the sweltering bar. The music shifts into a new song, this one slower, more seductive, a favorite of mine – Lost in the Fire featuring The Weeknd.

As Abel’s angelic voice flows over me, a pair of hands slide over my hips from behind me. I start to pull away, but then I notice – the hands are tattooed. And for some reason, that hot little fact makes me relax into the large body behind me.

Those tattooed hands tug me back even more, bringing me flush against him as he falls into time with my movements. God, this guy can dance – a rarity these days.

His body is all hard muscle and heated skin. His mouth is hot against my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. My skin buzzes. Fuck, I haven’t felt this way since–

Turning my head slightly, I can make out the vague outline him and it confirms my sinking suspicion... He’s a BTS boy.

"Hey, noona," he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing over it as he speaks.

Fuck my life, I think as I shiver involuntarily in response. Spinning to face one of Satan’s henchmen, I toss my ponytail over my shoulder and jut a hip out in both defiance and defense. But really nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Jeon fucking Jungkook, the golden boy of BTS.

He somehow looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the last I saw him playing pong against Taehyung at that party – information that I cannot even comprehend. His left arm is completely tattooed, along with a few smaller ones dotting his hands. I glare at them, blaming those hands for throwing me off.

“Like them?” Jungkook waves his fingers in front of my narrowed eyes, “I got them this summer.” Smirking lazily, Jungkook makes his own perusal of me – taking extra time along the way.

His jaw flexes as his eyes turn molten, “You’re killing me, noona. Tae didn’t mention…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I follow his gaze. Oh fuck. I had forgotten I decided to forego a regular bra tonight because I wanted to show off my piercings. Just having a thin bralette under my dress, my pierced nipples are definitely noticeable under Jungkook’s heavy stare.

Refusing to give into him, I square my shoulders, “Yeah, I got them this summer, too. But, I don’t see how that’s either your or Taehyung’s business.”

At my words, Jungkook rips his eyes away from my tits to finally meet my own eyes again, “Oh, but it really is our business. Tae said we’d like you and I agree.”

His voice is low and rough, and I swear I can feel it washing over my body, making all of my synapses fire in response.

“We?” I choked out. In full panic mode, I spin and try to leave, but I barely make it a foot away before getting stopped by a now-familiar tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

Luckily, a crashing sound echoes from the back table where the other BTS boys must be, and Jungkook lets out a string of curses, “Fucking hell, listen I have to go make sure no one’s hurt, or Joon will kill me. Stay here, okay? I’m not done with you, (y/n).”

His hand rushes up to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. Our lips fuse together in a brutally hot kiss, his tongue slipping against my bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

And then he’s gone – disappearing rapidly through the fray to manage whatever trouble his frat has gotten into.

I stand there, shaking fingers on my lips wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Hey, sorry we took so long! This bitch cut in front of us and I swear she ordered for the entire fucking population of North America—”

Luna smacks Jenni’s arm, cutting her off, “You okay, (y/n)?” Luna peers closer at me, “Holy shit, is that a hickey?  We were only gone for 10 minutes!”

My hand flies to my neck as both Jenni and Luna grab me, dragging me to the slightly quieter back alley of the bar. As they conduct the second Spanish Inquisition, I spill the details on what happened.

After a moment of silence following my explanation, they both start talking at once:

→ Jenni: “Hell yes, girl, go off! Jeon Jungkook is fine as fuck…” → Luna: “(y/f/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), have you lost your damn mind…”

→ Jenni: “…I’d hit that in a heartbeat. I’m so proud!” → Luna: “…Do you not remember last semester? Are you high? Oh my GOD, did he drug you?!”

“Stop!” I slap a hand over each of their mouths, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you guys are impossible. I am not ‘hitting’ anything, and, no, he did not fucking drug me.”

Sighing, I continue, “It was a lapse in judgement, okay? I remember last semester more than anyone, but he’s just so powerful and I don’t seem to have any common sense around BTS.”

I take my hands away from their mouths and immediately Jenni asks, “Wait, what happened last semester?”

Luna slings an arm around my shoulder, “Come on, let’s go get pizza and a six-pack from Ralph’s. We can go out another night this week.”

“Take-out from Ralph’s?” Jenni’s eyes widen comically, “This must be major tea. Let’s go.”

Instinctively, we clink our beers together for the second time that night and chug the remainder of our bottles in true broke bitch fashion (never leave paid-for beer behind).

With that, we trek back through the door and out of the bar. We finish our night filling in Jenni with our less than savory experience with the infamous BTS fraternity last semester.

But, as I lay in bed for the night, I can’t help but wonder if Jungkook had looked for me that night after I left… Or if he told Taehyung...

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries​ @h5naaa​

[greatbigbellies]

New commission story. This is an anonymous commission about a dysfunctional couple who wind up pregnant with sextuplets! Contains heavy multiples pregnancy, stuffing, humiliation, and discomfort.

They had been dating for three months, and living together for one, and Morgan was already at his wits end. Lilith, his girlfriend, was lovely, and sweet, and pretty, and all the things he wanted in a girl… but she was also ungodly frustrating because of one reason, and one reason only: she refused to do ANYTHING that might be considered work.

She was between jobs, hadn’t so much as taken out the trash, and still hadn’t unpacked from moving in with Morgan! Now he made good money. Morgan could support the two of them and then some, and he didn’t want a maid for a girlfriend, but what he did want was some backup. Coming home from work every day to see Lilith sitting on the couch playing videogames, with a sink full of dirty dishes, a can full of trash, and a pile of takeout containers was absolutely grating.

So finally, he hatched a plan. Something almost cartoonishly vindictive, but it had to be done, as far as Morgan was concerned. He’d ruin her. He’d knock her up, stuff her full of food, and watch her inflate like a balloon. If she wasn’t going to move, then he’d make her physically incapable of moving! Multiples ran in both of their families, so with any luck, she’d land pregnant with more than one. He also did all of the cooking. ALL of it. So sneaking fertility meds into her meals wouldn’t be too difficult either, he’d decided. And so, his campaign of corpulence began.

13 Weeks

“Nrrrrggghhh… come ON! Damnit!” Lilith swore as she attempted to button her favorite jeans. They had been holding up well through the first trimester, stretching with her skin, but that was starting to change. Of course, a lot had changed in the last 3 months… she’d found herself pregnant, with SEXTUPLETS no less, and was dealing with the ramifications poorly. She’d been stress eating a lot, something Morgan had been enabling quite a bit, and her tummy was already showing some growth. Both from food and babies, her waistline had a definite visible baby bump, and her belly button was flattened and preparing to pop.

“What’s wrong?” asked Morgan as he stepped into the room, a smile in his voice. He looked to see her wearing just jeans and a bra, fighting with the waistline of her pants. “I’m too big for my favorite pair of jeans! These have the cute patches in them!” she lamented. “Oh babe...” he trailed off, circling around to her front. He pulled something out of his pocket and knelt down. She eyed him suspiciously, not sure where he was going with this. He revealed the item to be a thin rubber band, which he stuck through the button hole and wrapped both ends around the base of the button. “Voila!” he grinned. She frowned in return. “Really? A rubber band? They’re not buttoned properly, people will judge me!” “Babe, we’re just going to the mall, it’ll be fine, now put a shirt on and do your makeup so we can get going!” he urged. “Are we going by JCPenny’s to get me a bigger wardrobe?” she asked. Morgan had turned to leave but stopped at the question. He had to think of an excuse quickly. 

“Not yet…” he said. “But I’ll get my quarterly bonus soon, then we’ll go clothes shopping then!” he lied. She crossed her arms and glared at him, somewhat temperamental from pregnancy hormones. “You’re really going to make me walk around with unbuttoned pants and a top that rides up because you want to wait for a bonus?!” he grumped. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “We can’t be all willy-nilly with money anymore, Lilith, we have six kids on the way!” he retorted. Her face tightened, then softened. He was right. She rubbed her tummy and sighed. “Yeah, okay, what’s like… one more week with tight clothes? Your bonus is coming in soon right?” He nodded, “Any day now,”

20 weeks

 7 more weeks came and went, and Lilith saw no sign of that bonus… or her feet. Now looking full term with one baby, Morgan had been doing a number on her figure. All of the weight seemed to gravitate to her midriff, and so her tummy grew both with child and with a thin layer of fat. Still despite the small wrapping of chub, her bellybutton managed to work its way into a full fledged outie, about as big around as her thumb. 

She sat on the couch in her usual spot, playing a first person shooter on the console, but it didn’t feel the same anymore. She’d gotten in an argument with Morgan before he went to work. A conversation about job prospects got ugly when Morgan pointed out she was too visibly pregnant for anyone to hire her. “Get comfy babe,” he’d said, almost mockingly, “You’re not going anywhere for a while,” There was some yelling, and swearing, and Morgan ended up stomping out the door, it was an all around rotten day.

That was, until the door opened, to reveal Morgan carrying what had to be $40+ dollars in takeout from Lilith’s favorite restaurant. “Oh my god, babe, what’s all this?” she asked, turning to watch him. “I felt bad about our fight earlier, so I bought enough food to keep you and the babies happy, as a gesture of good will,” he explained. “Oh, honey, that’s so sweet of you, but I already had dinner! I-” “All the better!” he cut her off. “You’re eating for seven now, and the doc said to let you eat as much as you could, so…” he set the bags on the coffee table beside her. Morgan smiled down at Lilith, looking at her with those cold steel blue eyes. Lilith brushed some of her bright blue hair behind her ear and broke eye contact. “I don’t know hon… that’s a lot of food there…” she trailed off.

Morgan sat next to her, between Lilith and the food, and placed a hand on her bare midriff, running a palm over her stretching skin. “I know it feels like a lot, but this is for the babies! We have to get them up to weight by the time you’re full term, and the only way to do that is to eat everything your stomach can handle,” he explained, somewhat firmly. She sighed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, for the babies,” she took the first of three heaping takeout containers full of teriyaki chicken, chow mein, and rice, and got to work. 

Morgan kept close to make sure she ate every last bite, only getting up to bring her water when she asked for it. The first box went down pretty quickly, her pregnant appetite getting the best of her. The second was remarkably slower, and Morgan could see it filling out her tummy, causing it to push farther out, just slightly. By the time they hit the third box, she was struggling. “Babe I’m too full… I’m done,” she whined in protest. “Nope, you need to finish what you started,” Morgan said, once again rather firmly. “Morgan I’m gonna throw up if I push it any more…” He took the plastic fork and gathered a mix of rice, chicken, and noodles, and slowly delivered it to her mouth. “Just one more bite, for the babies,” he smiled coyly. She begrudgingly took the bite and began chewing, brushing her blue hair out of her sweaty face. 

She was the fullest she’d ever felt, her belly feeling overstretched from a combination of growing babies and filled stomach. The pressure radiated from her midriff to make her whole body uncomfortable. She was miserable, and Morgan knew it. He tried not to show his enjoyment, but the truth was this was going better than he could have hoped for. 6 babies would leave her massive, and his mission to stuff her with every calorie under the sun was going smoothly. At this rate, they’d need a bigger bed to both fit on, an expense he was more than willing to make happen.

33 weeks

Lilith’s flip-flops pattered against her feet as she waddled toward the mall food court, moving as quickly as she could, which admittedly wasn’t very quick at all in her state. Wearing shorts that were stretched to capacity, held up with Morgan’s rubber band trick, and a “PINK” tank top that functioned more as a bra than anything else, she blushed red as she made her way. Everyone, from the young to the elderly, stared at her, or more specifically, her massive, mountainous middle. She was rivalling octomom in size, and the bigger she got, the more Morgan found excuses to take her out. He held her hand and tugged her along, leading the charge to the burger joint. 

“Babe everyone is staring! I want to go home!” she hissed at him. He turned to give her a side-eyed look and hiss back “You’ll be fine. Now come on, the babies are hungry!” the pair rounded a corner and Lilith came face-to-face with her highschool BFF. Gwen. “Lilith?” she asked, recognizing the hair color. “Y-yeah…” stammered Lilith. Morgan beamed. “Oh my god! Girl you didn’t tell me you were preggers!?” Gwen smiled and circled around to give Lilith a genuine hug. The two girls looked to Morgan, Gwen with excitement, and Lilith with embarrassment. “And Morgan, you’re looking suave as usual,” Gwen smiled. Morgan smirked. “Why thank you,” Gwen turned her attention to Lilith’s pendulous belly, “Gosh I wondered why I haven’t heard from you in months!? When’s the baby shower? I wanna spoil this little…” she trailed off… “These little… guys?” she asked. “We don’t know the sexes yet-” Lilith was cut off “In about a month and a half, we’re going to have lots of fun little games centered about this tank right here,” Morgan gave Lilith’s belly a hearty pat, “So tell all your girlfriends they’re invited, cause it’s going to be big!” he grinned. Lilith shot him a radioactive death glare, but he ignored it, his plans already in motion. “Okay! I gotta run cause I can’t be late for an interview but I’ll catch up later! Bye hon!” she said, running off. 

“Bye… Gwen…” Lilith shot another look at Morgan. “What the hell was that?! We’re NOT having a babyshower!” “Says you,” Morgan smirked. He proceeded to pile it on, “But your friend was so excited! Are you really going to dash her hopes like that? She just wants to spend time with you,” Lilith pouted, “I… guess so…” her response was cut off by a deep rumbling from her tummy. Morgan shot her a mischievous grin and took her hand again, continuing their trek.

Seeing as she was too big to fit in the booths, Morgan sat Lilith down at one of the chairs, and went off to order. She could feel all eyes on her as she placed a hand on her tummy to try to calm the movement she felt deep inside. What was in reality only a few minutes felt like hours as she waited for Morgan to return with the food. She was happy when she heard him approach, but was upset at what she saw him carrying. “That’s six burgers!?” she whisper-yelled incredulously. “Yeah, one for each baby!” stated Morgan, matter-of-factly. “I’m not about to pig out in front of all of these people!?” 

Morgan’s smile dropped when she said that. “Are you really going to let the stares of a few strangers deny food for your babies? OUR kids?” Lilith sighed. “Well… no, but can we take this home?” her tummy rumbled again in protest. “I don’t think they can wait,” Morgan whispered. “F-fine… but when I’m full I’m stopping,” she sighed. Morgan placed both hands on the firm, warm front of her belly, feeling her popped bellybutton under his right palm. “You’ll stop when THEY’RE full, alright?” Lilith looked down at herself. Her massive, bloated, overly pregnant self, and sighed. “Yes dear,”

She picked up the first juicy, tender steakburger he’d gotten her, and took a huge bite. The food itself actually tasted great, the mustard, tomato, and pickles. She had been craving pickles today, she just didn’t want to admit it. One by one, each burger disappeared into her huge pregnant gut, eliciting happy kicks from its occupants. Morgan smiled as he watched her. These burgers would have given her trouble a month ago, but now? Her stomach was stretched, her babies were hungry, and she had the capacity to be a professional speed-eater, all thanks to him.

Lilith was enamored by the tastiness of the burgers, she was downing one after another, about 40 seconds a piece. She was starting to get embarrassed though. The way Morgan was grinning at her… the way the other mall goers were just… staring. She was a big, fat, pregnant spectacle… and she hated it. She felt a *pop* from the front of her shots and her heavy belly lurched forward slightly, and she knew what had happened. “Uh oh, babe,” Morgan said loudly. “Looks like that rubber band wasn’t strong enough against your belly. I guess you were right,” he shrugged. Lilith’s cheeks burned with bright red embarrassment, but she kept eating, pretending not to hear him.

She jumped slightly as she felt his hand touch her bare tummy, rubbing it gently. “Now isn’t this better? Eating to your stomach’s content?” she swatted at him and pointed to the nearby slushy stand. “Cherry,” she grunted through a mouthful of food. “Whatever you say,” he slipped away. In reality, she just wanted some space from him. Ever since she found out she was pregnant, he’d been so clingy, spending every spare moment with her, making her eat and drink. “For the babies” had become as commonplace as breathing, she felt like, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing this all on purpose.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his quick return. “They were out of cherry, so I got you tiger’s blood,” he said, handing her the 44 oz drink. She swiped it form him with one hand, and polished off the sixth and final burger with the other. She felt heavy. Well… heavier, as the six greasy sandwiches settled in her gut. 7 more weeks… then she’d be due, and this would all be over.

39 weeks

Morgan had made good of his promise. He threw a baby shower, and Lilith was the center of attention, despite her wishes. Gwen, along with four other friends of theirs, had come to the party, and despite the relatively small gathering, Lilith felt absolutely smothered. She sat in her usual spot, in the center of the couch, and she was surrounded by her physically close, if not emotionally close friends. Her tummy had absolutely ballooned, and she was so big she couldn’t reach her popped navel anymore. While she’d stayed relatively free of stretchmarks, red and purple veins made themselves known on her shiny, overstretched skin. Her underbelly hung between her legs, which were forced to spread to make room for her massive mound of a womb.

No matter what she did, how much she complained, or what she threatened, Morgan would not buy her maternity clothes. Her belly hung proudly on display for all to see, weather she liked it or not. This had become so much more apparent during the shower. While Morgan brought food and drinks for all, Lilith sat planted on the couch, cooed at and touched like a walking petting zoo. She felt like she couldn’t go 10 seconds without a hand brushing against her belly, and the visible motion from the sextuplets inside did not help. “You’re positively glowing!” They all said. “You exude motherhood!” “I hope I look as good as you when I’m pregnant!” she hated all of it.

She snapped out of her surly stupor when she heard Gwen address her by name. “Lilith, I haven’t seen you covered up once this whole pregnancy! What made you decide to go belly-out the whole time?” Lilith forced a grin, “Well, Morgan had a LOT to do with it,” she replied, mentally grinding her teeth. “You’re just so brave, like it’s such a powerful look! You’re like ‘look out world, pregnant mama coming through’!” Gwen laughed, resting a hand on the side of Lilith’s gargantuan midriff. Morgan stepped into the room with some sort of plastic box. “You girls ready for another game?” he asked. Lilith turned red, the last game had been all about guessing the measurement of her waistline. All the guests had estimated her bigger than she was, and Morgan made a big show of measuring her, having a hard time getting the tape measure all the way around. 72 inches. She was 72 inches around. She was bigger around than she was tall. She almost cried at the realization.

Morgan opened the box to reveal a rainbow of different body paints and brushes, “You all get to belly paint!” Every girl there except for Lilith beamed with excitement. The various paints and brushes were snatched up lightening fast, and before she realized fully what was happening, Lilith was surrounded by five women all kneeling around her and applying paint to her overstretched, pregnant skin. Lilith couldn’t see what was being painted on her due to her sheer size, but she could only imagine how awful and embarrassing it would all look. Morgan already had his camera out, taking pictures.

Shivers went down her spine as Lilith felt the bristles and thick paint run over her sensitive bellybutton, Gwen giggling as she ran the brush up and down. Lilith felt so embarrassed, so large was her middle that she could be used as five canvases at once! Her face turned redder and she frowned as Morgan snapped shot after shot of her massive, bare tummy.

As time passed Lilith grew increasingly agitated. The sensation of paint brushes on her belly was absolutely grating, and the feeling of dry paint caking on the skin wasn’t helping either. She realized she was getting hungry, which was only souring her mood more. She felt her stomach gurgle and saw Morgan’s eyes light up. He as attuned to the sound of her rumbling tummy like a shark to blood, Lilith could tell he had something planned for this event in particular. Her belly rumbled again, this time louder, and the girls started to notice. “Damn girl, we gotta get you fed!” said Gwen, patting the belly. “You must be dying over there!” Lilith shook her head, “No, no I’m fine, I just need-” “Some cake!” beamed Morgan as he carried in a triple layer devils food cake. Lilith gulped.

“Gosh Morgan you treat her so well!” said one of the girls. “Anything for my girl!” he replied, setting the cake on the shelf of her belly. Lilith’s pleading eyes met Morgan’s powerful gaze, and she knew he was about to make her pig out. Right here. In front of all of her friends. He took a seat next to her on the couch, grabbed a fork, and scraped off a big mouthful. “Say Ahh,” he whispered. The girls went back to talking amongst themselves and painting, and Lilith was feeling pinned down by the weight of her sextuplet belly, and triple layer cake. She winced, and took the bite. “There… for the babies,” Morgan said, getting another forkful.

Bite after bite went down and Lilith could feel the brushes on her tummy slow down until nobody was painting anymore. All eyes were on her. She chewed and swallowed bite after bite of the sickeningly sweet cake, the frosting getting on her face and the top of her belly. She felt a couple of hands start feeling up her belly again as she pushed past the halfway mark of the cake.

It was so heavy and rich, and Lilith could feel every bite of it go right to her midriff. The babies began to stir and kick, which only landed more hands on her tummy. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Bite. Chew. Swallow. It became almost rhythmic as she entered a food induced trance. She could faintly hear the girls saying things like “wow, she can really put it away,” and “Is she going to stop?” and “I think I feel her belly getting tighter!”, but she was lost to the caloric intake and sheer, painful embarrassment. 

She only came to when the cake stopped coming. When she had eaten it all. Gwen clapped for her. Morgan gave her a kiss on the cheek to congratulate her. Everyone else kept their hands on her belly. “She gets real strong cravings for chocolate sometimes,” Joked Morgan, the other girls giggling at her expense. Moran got his camera back out. “Smile!” he said, mockingly, as he snapped a photo. 

A perfect shot of Lilith, 39 weeks pregnant with six babies, her belly bare, resting between her legs. Her tummy was covered in little paint doodles of flowers, trees, landscapes, and stick figure families, except for the top shelf, which was stained brown from the smeared chocolate. Her mouth was open as she breathed heavily through it, feeling ready to burst. Morgan sat down next to her again, and showed her the picture on the camera’s display screen. “This is you babe!” he laughed. “This is what you really are!”

[agentsofmarvel]

my random kingdom keepers hc’s

⚠️ maybe spoilers & some may not be cannon ⚠️

finn

* his mom taught him to cook, so now he makes full course meals for the group.

* wanted to do the matching group outfits at disney but everyone else (except for willa) said no. he managed to convince amanda to do matching couples outfits for a date once.

* sits in his room and blasts music rlly loud when he’s upset. the music is one direction or taylor swift.

* is going to university of central floridia with a major in hospitality management or business.

* the embarrassing boyfriend (and friend) that will go to any event and scream and yell. like amanda could be presenting something and here comes finn: “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!” and tbh willa would join him.

* usually just wears a t-shirt and jeans, but when he needs to dress up, he will 110%. he’s the one the girls call when they need outfit advice.

amanda

* she was the one who chose eli’s name (kingdom kids!). she also let finn try to choose his middle name but he got stuck between wayne or dillard for weeks.

* kind of a beachy outfit/vibe. i feel like she wears a lot of hoodies with shorts and flip flops.

* likes to wear her hair in all different styles. one day it would be normal, then braids, then space buns, then it’s suddenly curly??

* usually tries to keep her emotions pretty chill, but if you try and bully her friends, she will loose it. try flirting with finn and see what happens.

* tried getting a tattoo of one of jess’ drawings once, but the thought of the needle made her turn right around.

* if she doesn’t want to be bothered, she just flips you off. deep into a book? middle finger. concentrating on schoolwork? there it is.

jess

* has a gc with maybeck called “art hoes” where they talk about drawing, sculpting, etc.

* the type of aunt that gets her nieces/nephews/other really weird and kind of dangerous gifts. like: “where did you get that?!” “oh, from aunt jess.” “of course you did.”

* got a pair of doc martens as a gift and wore them to disney for an entire day for “the aesthetic” even though she complained about her feet hurting the entire time.

* also the type to wear long-sleeves and turtlenecks under shirts in 100° weather.

* probably did the kool-aid hair dye trend in middle school and kinda regretted it.

* every time she would walk into a room someone would blast the “that’s so raven” theme song on repeat.

charlene

* tries to volunteer every weekend either at crazy glaze to spend time with maybeck or coaching a little kid’s cheer squad.

* has an amazingly good memory for really random things. like, “you can’t wear that, you wore it to disney springs last time we went.” “that was three months ago how???”

* i feel like she’s a really good baker. brownies, cakes, you name it. she leaves the cookie baking to mrs. whitman though.

* also a really good listener. would 10/10 be the group’s therapist. whatever time of day (and night) you need to talk or vent, she will pick up the phone immediately.

* maybeck sculpted her a vase with cinderella castle and fireworks on it years ago and she adores it to this day. it sits on her nightstand and is slightly faded but she doesn’t care.

* buys her friends cute things that remind her of them. she’s bought willa, jess, amanda, and herself matching necklaces and bought the boys disney pins with mickey, donald, and goofy on them.

maybeck

* had professional headshots done just because. “maybeck where are you we have an OT problem!” and he’s like, “one sec, getting my headshots done and i’ll meet you there” and they’re all “????”

* you have to drag him to go clothes shopping but then he never wants to leave and does a fashion show with each and every item he bought.

* somehow looks good in every picture? it could be blurry, from a terrible angle, and everyone else looks rlly bad, but then there’s maybeck.

* loves meeting characters. he will flip if he sees a character he really loves. “IS THAT REMY THE ***** RAT! CHARLENE WE NEED TO TAKE A PICTURE!”

* one of those people that says “me” in deep voice to everything. sees a kid trip and fall onto the ground “ME” “maybeck stop”.

* has picked up a few gymnastics tricks from charlene and will do them randomly. like, *backflips away from OT* “when did he learn that???”

willa

* 90% of her clothes are button down shirts with college pull overs and converse. she doesn’t care how warm it is.

* somehow always has a book on her. they could be in line at a park and she just pulls a book out of thin air and starts reading.

* had a harry potter phase growing up that everyone joked about. “willa you can’t that’s UNIVERSAL! you dare betray walt disney like this?!”

* for one of their anniversaries, philby buys her a new bear, this time a duffy bear, to replace mr. totems and she almost cries. every anniversary one of his gifts is a new outfit for duffy.

* goes to university of florida with philby. she’s an english language and literature major and loves going on study dates.

philby

* studying computer science at the university of florida.

* wears flannels, hoodies, or t-shirts that have really bad science-themed puns on them everyone loathes (which is mostly why he wears it).

* wants to adopt or foster tons of cats when he’s older. he was so upset he couldn’t take elvis to college.

* either listens to disney music or 80s/90s hits. there is no in-between.

* the designated bag holder while in the parks. he always has everything you could possibly need. sunscreen, bandaids, mints, hairbrushes, pencil and paper (if jess has a dream), snacks of all sizes, he’s got it all.

* super bad dancer and loves to embarrass willa. prom was just philby dancing in the middle of the dance floor terribly while willa watched shaking her head.

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 13 (Final Chapter)

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - ... Art - Art - Art

To those of you who have made it this far through this story; congratulations. You literally just read a novel length romance about a Goblin King and a Human Prince. The final tally for this story? 149,053 Words. In my doc file, this totals to 239 pages (size 11/arial font) . I made a final art piece to commemorate this chapter, HERE.

This has been... Such a journey. Such an adventure. I have loved every last second of this and I hope you all did too. I don’t know how this chapter will be received, but for now, this will be the end for Nikostratus and Grier...

Thank you all so very much for your support, and please please PLEASE reblog/comment/ask/DM me with your thoughts or prompts or ideas or headcannons. I love these two and I can’t talk about them enough...

If you love this story, please also consider supporting me on BuyMeACoffee which you can access through my MasterList above. Want more of the boys? I’d willingly take commissions on them, or any of my other characters (or a new one, just for you!). Times are tough for everyone, and I hope I was able to bring a little light for a time with this story...

Much love, and thank you.

I skimmed the last line once more, then glanced over the entire document to be sure that everything else was properly in order before signing my name neatly at the bottom. I passed the page to Hibik and turned to the next. I felt the very tip of my eyebrow twitch as my eyes settled on it and I looked up at the goblin.

“Lord Hibik-”

“Apologies, My Prince,” He rushed to explain, “I know you do not usually sign anything that is in goblinese. However, this is simply a trade manifesto from one of the outlying cities. If you so wish, I can translate every word for you before you sign.”

I waited patiently for him to finish, but plucked up the parchment and held it out to him none-the-less. “While I appreciate your diligence, and certainly trust you in all manners of state, I simply cannot sign anything I cannot read for myself.” I told him, my voice formal and flat, but still with the lingering edges of my exhaustion in it. “I have no doubt it is exactly what you say it is, however should I choose to sign it and it is brought before me at some other time, I would be unable to distinguish it from anything else in goblinese.” I shook my head. “If I cannot understand something without a mediary, then I should not be trying to pass authority on it.”

Hibik nodded, dropping his gaze lightly. Seeming humbled. “Of course, My Prince. You have proven once more your unerring logic in such matters of state... My apologies to have questioned your wisdom at all.”

“Have it translated if it is urgent. Otherwise, it shall just have to wait until my goblinese has advanced or…” I dropped off, and felt my throat get tight.

The King’s secretary nodded again, and I could see the sad tinge around his eyes at my words. I started to search for some formal platitude. Some simple comfort to reassure him that everything would be fine… But I found the lie stuck to the roof of my mouth uncomfortably and I could not force it free. I looked down at the last document on the desk before me instead, pretending to read through it. My eyes ran over the first paragraph about four times before I was finally able to begin actually comprehending it. I tried not to think about the fact that the Master Healer was still visiting with the only other person with authority to sign such documents. And the painful knowledge that the individual was still in no state to do so. I tried to resist the urge to look over at the door to his chambers every few seconds. As if I would be able to discern what was happening or what fresh prognosis the Healer would bring. And I worked very hard to deny that I already knew what his conclusions would be.

It took me a little longer than usual to read the final document that required my signature, but finally it was done. Just as I was finishing with the usual dab of my quill at the end of my full name, there was a light knock on the door. I glanced up as Seoc opened it, and was mildly surprised to see the General standing beyond, his hands neatly tucked behind his back.

Hibik took the final page to sand as Seoc and Damjan spoke together softly. When Seoc glanced over at me, I gave him a small nod of approval, which he quickly relayed to the General. Damjan strode over slowly, a few crumpled pages in his own hands. I resisted the urge to sigh, and the prickling of hairs at the back of my neck as I longed to be done with all this official tedium. Longed to be back in the quiet solitude of the King’s sick room. I swallowed the lump in my throat as subtly as I was able, and moved to stand in order to greet the General.

He raised one large hand. “Perhaps it is best if you remain seated, My Prince.” He informed me as his own greeting, which splashed a cold chill down my spine.

Hibik lingered, signed documents in hand, glancing between myself and Damjan. I saw the pair exchange a brief glance, one which communicated far more than most, and saw the edges of the secretary’s lips twitch. Perhaps debating if he should stay. But when he glanced over to me again, I waved him away with a reassuring nod.

“Thank you for your time, My Prince.” he told me hesitantly, bowing low. 

Damjan shifted as Hibik made his way out, and I turned my attention to him. “What brings you, General?”

The hesitation he presented me with had another icy breath running down my back. I watched the man shift again, clenching and unclenching his oversized hands around the papers within them. I glanced down at that, then back up to his face. I allowed one eyebrow to raise ever so slightly. Damjan cleared his throat.

“I have just received word from our… “contacts” in the Kingdom of Geriveria.” He told me, his voice thin with his persistent reluctance.

He dropped off, and I made a point not to let my eyes wander. Fixing him with a steadfast gaze. When he still had not spoken after a few moments, I tapped one finger lightly on the small table beside me where I had set my quill and inkwell.

“I assume you have some news which you deemed important enough to bring before me.” I concluded flatly, and was not reassured as the General winced. “Please, proceed.”

Damjan straightened, collecting himself. “... Our contacts have confirmed the information stating King Tibertius had fallen ill just after our visit to the castle…” He gritted his teeth, and dropped his eyes, “... And I have just received word… that last night he succumbed to his illness.”

The world around me seemed to shift at his words... I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Wasn’t sure what that news elicited in me. I froze for a moment, staring at him blankly. I felt my thumb roll thoughtlessly against the fabric of the armchair I was seated in.

“... The human King is dead?”

I watched his eyes flick up to me from the ground, equally uncertain what to make of my uncharacteristically callous and pointed remark. He nodded slowly. “Yes… It has not been formally announced yet, however I am confident in our sources who have reported it.”

I turned this over for a moment in the hollow echoing expanse of my mind. “Was it the Rotting Sickness?” My voice sounded distant, and I wasn’t entirely sure I had spoken at all.

“It is unclear at this time, though we do not believe it likely.” He responded softly. “Even given that he refused our protective Warding, there were other factors in place for his benefit.”

I nodded ever so slightly, running my whole hand slowly over the arm of my chair now. “Crown Prince Valerianus will send formal word to us soon.” I told him. “Be sure to have an appropriate response prepared. And tighten the patrols and guard at the border, in case there is any backlash from the announcement.”

I saw him hesitate again. “... My Prince-”

“Keep abreast of your ‘contacts’ as well.” I continued, pretending he hadn’t spoken. “I wish to know if Crown Prince Valerianus is officially coronated, or if he otherwise sets a date for it.” I glanced off to the side, hardly realizing I was no longer really seeing anything around myself anymore. “I will draft a letter for him, and a formal statement, in preparation for that news as well.”

Damjan nodded his affirmation. “As you wish, My Prince…” He chewed on his tongue only briefly before speaking again, “... And if you need someone to talk to… I wanted to let you know I am here for you. In whatever capacity you may have need of me.”

I stood, unhurried, and tugged my vest to straighten it as I did. “I do appreciate the offer, General, but there is no need.”

“Prince Nikostratus,” He followed quickly, before I could dismiss him, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, “Whatever else your relationship with that man was… he was still your father.” I stiffened slightly at the word. “This is not easy news to bear, in any situation.”

I returned my gaze to him, my expression still set in stone. “Thank you for your concern, General Damjan, however I can assure you, I am fine.” I paused briefly, glancing over towards the bedroom in a moment of weakness. “... I would request this information remains between us for now, though.” I almost winced, but squared my shoulders instead. Keeping my voice even, my features stony. “I believe it would be best for Princess Morgana to hear this news from me.”

He dipped his head respectfully. “Of course, My Prince.” I nearly jumped with surprise as his big hand fell on my shoulder. “Whatever you need. Do not hesitate to ask.”

I nodded to him curtly, and he withdrew his hand. Dropping into a polite bow before he took his leave. I turned my attention to the back room, making my way over with halting steps intermittently set amid my long stride. The Master Healer was just gathering up his things as I approached. He turned and bowed to me, his long beard brushing the floor.

“My Prince.” He intoned respectfully.

“How is the King?” I asked, my voice flat to withhold my impending dread of his answer.

The Master Healer flinched, unable to conceal his thoughts quite so easily. “He remains the same, My Prince.” He replied softly. “I have given him a tonic to ease his symptoms and perhaps allow for a more fitful rest… However there is not much more I can offer for him at this time.”

I nodded, burying the sorrow and disappointment at his words deep into my already hollowed out chest. “Thank you, Your Grace,” My eyes followed him as he slowly raised from his bow, “I appreciate your efforts greatly.”

“I only wish there was more I could do, My Prince.” He murmured.

Another curt nod. Which was the best I could manage. “Seoc will show you out.” I informed him numbly.

My attendant closed the bedroom door behind them, for which I was grateful. They had all stopped trying to convince me to retire to my own chambers a few days ago, as they had realized it would fall on ears both too stubborn and too deaf to their pleas. Even Morgana and ina Morag relented their persuasive efforts, instead focusing on bringing whatever they could to me here. I tried to pretend I stayed out of duty and responsibility. I tried to pass off my vigil as nothing more than what would be expected of any other individual so politically tied to the King as I was. It made it easier, in a way, than trying to accept my real reasons... It stung that I was apparently not hiding it well from the others; that they could see my vulnerability, and perhaps that they had some understanding of my decision that I could not grasp myself.

Slowly, I lowered myself into the armchair beside the bed, finally building the courage to look upon the King once more. I watched his labored breathing for a few long minutes, listening to the raspy rush of air in and out of his lungs. My palms came to my lap, and I thumbed at them absentmindedly as I felt the stone I had sheltered behind for the formal proceedings slowly cracking and crumbling away.

I glanced down at my hands, and found they were shaking. “.... King Tibertius is dead.” I informed him, my voice soft to preserve the hushed silence of the chamber. I hesitated, squeezing my thumb into my palm until it hurt. “... my… my father... is dead…” I finally released a heavy sigh, and felt my shoulders slump. “... I honestly don’t… I don’t know how to feel about it…”

My gaze lifted back to look over at him, and I shuddered at the sight. I didn’t like seeing him lay so still. I had spent days watching him, a statue on guard at his side. Silent and unmoving. I wasn’t sure I could do it for even a moment longer. I shifted, then stood again, reaching over to take up the cooling cloth from the water basin beside the bed. I settled on the edge of the mattress beside him. So that I could reach him better, I told myself. I brushed the wild bangs out of his face, then smoothed the damp cloth across his brow. 

He seemed to sigh beneath my touch, and I bent over him to study his face. His skin was more grey than green now, and I could feel the heat rising off his body. I traced my eyes over the edge of his jaw, down to the point of his chin. I committed the shape of his nose to memory, and lingered on the curve of his lashes against his cheek. Before I had even realized I was doing it, I found my fingers skimming along the prominent ridge of his brow, and my thumbs smoothing down his slender eyebrows. He shifted beneath my touch, so slightly I thought perhaps I might have imagined it. I withdrew my hand, hesitating. Placing the cloth back in the basin on the bedside table. But I couldn’t help returning to cup his face, and run my thumb along the crest of his cheek. I felt the tiny beveling of his grey-green skin, taking a moment for it. I had never so carefully studied the quality of his flesh without some other thought or pressure weighing on me. I chose to do so now. To memorize everything I possibly could... His fever burned at the pads of my hand, but I ignored it.

The now familiar ache settled in my chest, throbbing with each pulse of my heart. I ran my hand down the side of his face, along the curve of his throat. My fingers cupped around the back of his neck, and I gave a gentle squeeze. I stared at his eyes, longing for them to open again. Longing to see those mischievous, sparkling red irises. It had been days since he had last opened his eyes… Not since he had begged me to lay alongside him…

With his last request heavy on my mind, I looked over my shoulder at the door, then back down at him. My numb fingers rose of their own accord, and fumbled with the buttons on my vest. Then tugged my tunic haphazardly from its tuck as I folded the vest to set on the cushion of the armchair beside us. Once my boots joined it, I took a steadying breath then carefully climbed into the bed next to him. Now I knew I wasn’t imagining it when his head turned weakly. As if he could sense me there… I knew I was fooling myself. I gently collected him into my arms, and nearly faltered for the limpness of his body. But there was a strange reassurance of feeling his raspy breath against my collarbone. I rested my chin on the top of his head, shivering slightly despite the hot body I had tucked against me.

“... I don’t know how to tell Morgana…” I breathed quietly, uncertain what else to do. My eyes squeezed shut. “Gods… I just… I-I can’t… With everything else…” I wrapped my arms a little further around him. “... Please... Grier…” The taste of his name stung my mouth. “I can’t do this by myself…” I swallowed hard. “Y-you always asked me what I wanted… a-and I never had an answer for you… Usually because I just.. I didn’t know… but…” I buried my face in his damp hair. “But I know I don’t want this… and I know I was… hesitant… A-and… maybe reluctant to… to let this relationship be anything more than political...” The words felt heavy and foreign in my mouth, yet as I spoke them, it seemed easier to voice the rest. I shook my head, still working to dam the pain starting to build in my throat and eyes. “But that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean that I…” I stopped again, swallowing hard and taking a deep steadying breath. “Please… I need… I n-need you to get better… I need you to come back… I-I don’t know what I’m doing anymore… I need you to tell me…” I closed my eyes, knowing I was gushing uselessly, but unable to help myself. “Y-you asked me… you asked me to be strong… to do the best for…” I hesitated. “For our people… I’m… I’m trying… but I-I’m… I’m not the best for them… You are… and I-I… I can’t… It’s… I-it sounds stupid but…” Again I stopped, and laid quietly beside him. Hearing his steady if ragged breathing against me. Feelin the heat of him burn through the fabric of my tunic. Trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and emotions rallying to burst from me.  “... I never used to think of my future… I-I didn’t think I had much of one… but… b-but now I can’t think of a future for me… of a future without you in it…”

I held my breath for a long moment. As if waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him to fill the long silence as he always had before… Instead, I felt myself being blanketed by it. Felt it wriggle and stuff its way down my throat, until it threatened to choke the very air out of my lungs. I hated the silence, as I never had before. It burned and rang in my ears. It smothered me.

“W-what am I doing?” I mumbled to myself, trying to rid myself of the stillness and slowly starting to untangle my body from the goblin’s. “I’m losing my mind-”

I froze suddenly. Not daring to move. Not even daring to draw a breath. After a few shuttering beats of my heart, I slowly looked down to confirm what I thought I had felt… And found Grier’s hand latched weakly on my arm. As if he had heard me. As if he had felt me start to pull away from him.

I knew it was stupid. I was certain it was just some sort of… reflexive reaction. But then he shifted, burying his nose back against my shirt. And I decided I didn’t care. I latched onto the hope that maybe… just maybe… he had somehow heard me. He had sensed my body beside his. 

I suddenly remembered the Dowager Queen Morag’s words again as clearly in my mind as if she had been standing over us at that moment. He has good reason to. Is this what she had meant? If Grier needed a reason to come back, to fight this… then perhaps I could remind him he had one… Hadn’t he once said he could listen to the sound of my voice all night? I wondered if he could hear it from wherever he was. If it could bring him back...

“... Hibik has been bringing me any matters of state that need approval.” I told him softly, hesitantly. “I swear… it seems endless… there’s always something else to sign, something else to review…” I sighed, shifting slightly, biting at my tongue for a long moment. “... At least right now, I can use the excuse of not knowing goblinese… that cuts the paperwork down some…” I swallowed, trying to think what else to say. Already feeling anxious that the silence was building too long. “A-all I know is the alphabet… and Korol… Ussta bez, eto chen… umm… Nazia which means ‘name’... a-ah, but you know that…” I flushed slightly. Then I felt him shift against me, felt his breath on my neck, and almost shivered. I hesitated, then ran my hand over the back of his head. “Wh-what else… umm.. Cara, and ina… shiba, onsa… your mother calls Morgana onsakin… th-they get along a little too well, I think…”

I struggled for a while, feeling foolish. But the softness of his breath against my skin, and his hand on my arm, gave me the confidence to continue. For whatever it was worth...

….

“When I was five or so, I got sick like this,” I told him, brushing my fingers through his hair, “High fever, raspy lungs. I remember my mother sat with me all night. Read me stories, and stroked my head until I fell asleep.” I paused, twirling one strand of his hair around my finger. “... We have portraits of her in the halls. Not many, but a few. So I’ll never forget her face… I’d like to send for one, I think… If that would be alright with you.” I put the strand back and delicately picked up another. “But I also remember how she smelled… strange isn’t it? That’s what I remember best about her. She smelled like lilies. I don’t know how, but she always smelled like fresh picked lilies… It hurts a little to think that Morgana smells a lily and doesn’t think of our mother like I do.” My lips twitched distractedly. “Now she thinks of me, because she knows how much I like them… She doesn’t understand quite why… I-I don’t know if I ever told her.”

Grier shifted, nuzzling himself against me and letting out a soft sigh. I released his hair to reach carefully across the bed. Plucking the cloth from the basin. I would need to get more soon; all the water was almost gone. I wrung out the excess, then gently smoothed it across his forehead. Then over his temples. I turned his head and traced it across his lips. His long tongue came out briefly to swipe the moisture that lingered there.

“I remember her voice, too… She had a delicate voice. I don’t think she ever raised it much above a whisper.” I shook my head. “She never yelled… Whenever I did something that perhaps I shouldn’t have, she never yelled at me… She would just get this look… like she was disappointed I hadn’t made a better choice…” I snorted. “I think that was worse somehow… Morgana looks a lot like her, I think. Though my mother had this beautifully rich dark skin… I was very jealous of it. I wanted to have the color of her skin for my own. And it was always very soft.”

I ran the cloth back and forth over his neck. Around the edge of his shoulder blades. Down his spine. Smoothing it across his muscles and grey-green skin.

“I think she would have liked you… I hope she would have… I-I’m not sure how she would have felt about… all this.” I glanced around the chambers, delicately lit by a few sparkling candelabras, strategically placed. I had tucked the rest into neat rows along the tops of the bookshelves. Looking less cluttered and more displayed. “Not the goblin part… I think she would’ve been ah… mostly ok with that…” I chuckled, returning the cloth to the basin and brushing my hand through his soft hair again. “... I don’t think I had really thought about it much back then… girls, I mean…” I swallowed hard, staring down at the foot of the bed while I stroked his hair. “O-or boys for that matter… I wonder if she would’ve been... s-surprised… Though she always seemed to know me better than I knew myself… Valerianus was very, ah... ‘serious’, so the court girls didn’t care for him much, save for the ambitious ones. But they were always fawning over me…” I frowned. “I-I didn’t like it. I hated going to balls and galas or formal dinners. My mother would just laugh and say that I would figure it out when I was a little older…” I sighed. “It sounds silly now, I’m sure… Then she….” I dropped off, taking a steadying breath. “A-and Morgana was the center of my world after that, so I never... I never really questioned it again… I was very good at being polite, at being gracious. But I never returned any… ah…” I shook my head again. “I think… I think I was a year or two shy of twenty when I saw… this man… he was… ah…” I cleared my throat lightly, “He was from another Kingdom… older, but only barely in his thirties if even that… I just remember being struck absolutely dumb by him… I could hardly breathe when I realized he was in the same room as me, and I kept staring… by the Gods it was so embarrassing… I didn’t know what to do with myself around him…” 

I jumped at the light knock coming from beyond the bedchambers. Quickly, I looked down at Grier, but he was still in a deep sleep. He was tucked quite neatly against me, his arms wrapped around my middle, his ear against my sternum. He looked rather like he was smiling, I thought. It had been only a day or two since I had given up my post in the armchair beside the bed in favor of lying alongside him. And I hadn’t left since. We are married now after all, I reasoned with my guilt and self-consciousness. I should be allowed... I ran through all the different things I had started telling him since then. Arbitrary things at first. The way the mountains looked out my window. The odd items he had left about the room and where I had put them. Then I started opening up a little more. Telling him little snips of my memories. About the first horse I had ever ridden, and the first time I had held a sword. About Morgana’s first steps, and her first words. 

Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed like his sleep was less listless when I was speaking. And I found I felt a little better talking to him, rather than lying quietly and simply worrying over the state of him. I constantly feared leaving the silence for too long, as if it were the only tether he had. Barely daring to sleep for fear of it… I wasn’t sure I had ever spoken as much as I had in the past two days.

I stroked his hair back a final time, then carefully untangled myself from his embrace. A soft groan petered from him, and his lips twitched. But I was able to free myself and lay him gently back into the bed.

By the second quiet knock, I was at the door in the foyer and tugging it open. Hibik and the Master Healer stood there, both looking appropriately serious. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t make an attempt to hide my bare torso or feet. Simply pulled the door open the rest of the way and let them in. Nodding to their gracious greetings and formal bows. I was far too exhausted to care about any of that, though I felt a familiar numbness falling about my shoulders like an old coat as I followed them into the bedroom. The Healer went straight to the King’s side, while Hibik moved to take the basin from the table and brought it off to the other room to fill. I saw the Healer’s hands glow, watched him shift them back and forth over Grier’s body, as he had many times before. For his part, the King rolled slightly, grumbling something softly. It made my heart leap lightly in denial of the numbness that had taken up residence in my chest. But I watched the Healer anxiously.

He lowered his hands as Hibik returned, and glanced over at the secretary. Then he shook his head and put his hands on his hips. My heart plummeted back down.

“Well, My Prince,” breathed the Healer, and I stiffened as he turned to me, “I am not sure what you have been doing… but I urge you to keep it up.”

I blinked at him slowly. “What?”

A wide smile suddenly split his lips, and his hands tapped eagerly on his hips. “He’s doing better… Much better really…” I nearly swooned at his words, and reached out to steady myself on the bedpost. “His fever is all but gone. His lungs are clearing… I might be able to do more for him now. A potion perhaps. To revive him more.”

Hibik could barely contain a gasp, and clapped his hands together, relief filling his face. “You mean, he’s going to be alright? He’ll pull through?”

The Healer scoffed. “It’s miraculous! Really it is!” He shifted his weight and looked over his shoulder. “Almost overnight, the King’s condition has improved drastically. I’ve never quite seen anything like it.” He nodded, smiling again. “... I do think the worst is now behind us.”

My head felt completely detached from my body, and I thought if I hadn’t been holding the bedpost I might have floated away. Hibik was dancing from foot to foot, making lengthy exclamations in goblinese. I didn’t need to know all the words to understand his excitement. To feel it palpably around us, though I dared not embrace it myself. The doctor patted the air.

“We still have some ways to go yet, My Prince, Lord Hibik.” He reminded us. “It’ll take time for the King to regain his strength. It may be a month or more before he fully returns to his old vigor.”

“But he will?” I asked, and was surprised at the softness of my voice.

The Healer gave a final nod. “I have little doubt anymore, My Prince. I shall prepare a draught for him. However, given his state... I would expect him to wake anytime now.”

Hibik squealed with delight, and I raised my hand to calm him. The goblin quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, and the Healer tutted him. I glanced at Grier, then back at the pair of goblins.

“Lord Hibik, would you let my sister know the good news, please?” I instructed, then nodded to the vase of wilting flowers on the small round table at the back of the couch. “Perhaps she would like to get a fresh bouquet for him. She can come visit when she’s able.”

“I am not certain our gardens can survive another visit from the Princess,” He mused with a chuckle, still shifting from foot to foot, “However, I am more than pleased to let her decimate the remaining for the sake of our King.”

“Have some hot broth ready for him, the kitchens can send it straight up,” I added, glancing at the Healer for confirmation of this choice, “And let the Dowager Queen know as well. Morgana may want to tell her herself however, so I would suggest she be the first you inform.”

“Excellent, My Prince,” Hibik bowed, “I am most eager to spread this joyous news.”

The Healer bowed deeply as well, then they both made their way out. I closed the door behind them, my entire body tingling. Now that they were gone, I pinched myself hard to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My feet carried me back to the bedroom of their own accord. And I climbed into the bed and slipped up alongside him. Almost as soon as I settled, Grier rolled into me, tucking himself into my chest once more. I felt his contented sigh against my breastbone, and nearly shivered from the sensation. I wrapped my arms gently around him, resting my chin on the top of his head once more.

“... I think Josep knew before I did.” I told him softly, running my hands up and down his back. “He was always lingering late into the night. Always refilling my wine as soon as it emptied… I’m not sure h-how he knew… I noticed the long glances, and couldn’t help a few of my own…” I sighed, burying my nose in his hair for a moment. “He was… cute… Just a little shorter than me, but thin as a bean pole… his hair was raven black, and his eyes were a soft stormy grey… But bright as the moon at midnight...”

….

A few hours later, I adjusted the flowers, plucking a few errant leaves and placing them in the waste bin. Morgana was an... ambitious picker. Sometimes the roots and half the rest of the plant came along with the bloom. But she always picked the best and most colorful flowers, and the bouquet she had brought was perhaps her largest and loveliest yet. Not for the least because of her enthusiasm presenting them. The room felt anxiously still in her absence and I brushed my fingers over the petals, drawing in a deep breath of their soft scent. Trying unsuccessfully to calm my racing heart now that I was alone again... Nearly alone.

“... Been making yourself at home, have you?”

I jumped about a foot in the air at the sound of the thin voice from over my shoulder. My heart leapt into my throat as I spun on my heel, and my eyes shot wide. A wry, tired smile greeted me, set below glittering scarlet eyes that shifted around the room only briefly before settling on me. I tried to remember the last time I had seen them... I didn’t realize how much I had missed them until that moment.

Grier. 

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I stared at him, my eyes, frozen in place. Not entirely convinced I wasn’t dreaming. Hardly able to believe what I was seeing as the goblin slowly eased himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. He cocked his head to the side, raising one slender brow at me.

“I come back from the dead, and this is the greeting I receive?” He pouted. “Honestly, I think I was hoping for a bit more-”

I was at the bed before he had even finished forming the words. I caught the back of his head in my hand, nearly falling over him as I kneeled on the side of the mattress in my desperation to reach him. Crashing our mouths together so suddenly it was almost painful. His words sputtered against my lips, but then I could taste his smile again and my heart ached. Gods, I had missed that too. The warmth of his kiss, the shape of his mouth. I didn’t want to leave it again. His own hand came up, cupping my jaw, returning my kiss with such enthusiasm I thought my lungs might just collapse. Which only served to remind me that I had forgotten how to breathe.

I pulled back, gasping for air for half a second. Then dove back in to kiss him again. Now I could feel his weak laughter bubbling against my lips. Gently he pulled himself away, stroking his hand along my cheek to still my pursuit, running his thumb under my eye.

“Now that’s more like it.” He murmured dreamily, his eyes looking carefully back and forth between mine.

I flushed deeply, feeling the heat sweep across my face with a fury to match how his own feverish skin had once been. I started to pull away bashfully. “I-I’m sorry-”

He pushed the words back into my mouth with another kiss, forcing them deep into my throat in denial of them. My heart thrummed with delight. I lost myself for a moment more, and our kiss deepened. But he felt weaker than I remembered, his press intense but not as strong. I reminded myself of the state of him, and did not fight to keep our mouths locked when he finally pulled back again. Even though I longed to do so...

“H-how are you feeling?” I asked breathlessly instead, lingering with the tips of our noses brushing together. I gripped the back of his neck firmly, as if afraid letting go would allow him to float off again, slowly easing to sit on the mattress beside him.

“Tired.” He admitted. “And by the Gods I can’t remember ever having been this hungry before in my life…” His smile returned, pointy teeth and all. “But better… much better.” His thumb traced the edge of my lashes. “... Now that I’ve seen you again.”

I couldn’t help laughing in relief, but it broke as it fell away from my lips, and I saw his brow furrow with concern. I shook my head and his hand at my cheek weakly moved to still me. He reached out with his free one, and I didn’t hesitate to meet it with mine between us. Intertwining our fingers together.

“I-I… I thought that… I thought…” I choked on the words, my lips trembling.

Grier kissed them gently. Stilling them with his own. He peeled back slowly, only to lean back in half a breath later to lightly kiss them again. I spun like a top, my heart racing so fast in my breast I wasn’t entirely sure it was beating at all.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, my young Prince” He assured me sweetly, and I stumbled over another laugh.

“I… I-I… I’ve been thinking… I’ve been thinking a lot…” I breathed, my voice still shaky.

“Uh-oh,” He mused, “That sounds ominous. Should I prepare myself?”

I sighed exasperatedly. “Would you sh-shut up for half a second?” I belittled the words with a light hearted tone, and punctuated it with a kiss of my own. 

In truth, I was so happy to hear his voice again, I could have collapsed from relief. I wanted to hear it more. I wanted to listen to his voice for days, and to stare into those scarlet eyes, and feel the shape of his mouth against mine. But… He smiled against me, and tried to kiss me again as I pulled away. I shook my head. I had something to say, and I needed to say it, before I lost my nerve.

 “I-I’ve been thinking… a-and... I’ve decided… I d-decided that… I-I…”

“I hope this isn’t a farewell speech.” He teased as I fumbled for the words again. I shot him a look, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut. But damn that his smirk wasn’t still there on those blasted lips of his.

I took a deep, steadying breath. Staring down at our laps to avoid the temptation of his mouth. The silence rang heavy for a second, and I felt him squeeze my hand encouragingly. I could’ve collapsed with the emotion that sent spinning through me. He had barely been up for five minutes and already he was seeking to give me whatever support he could... Reminding me exactly why I had so much to say… So I sucked in a full lungful of as much air as I could possibly manage.

“... I don’t want to move into your rooms. And I don’t want you to move into mine. I want to have new rooms. To be our rooms. Up in the tower, with a balcony. But the bedroom doesn’t need a window, that way it stays dark. So you can still sleep in. And I want a bed that’s so big I might sometimes lose you in it. A-and I want a room off to one side that we can use as a nursery… Painted yellow… and I want to adopt… but I also want a few kids of yours… I-I don’t think I could do mine, because I really don’t want to sleep with anyone else and if there’s a way that maybe you didn’t have to lay with anyone either I-I think that would be better. But there is absolutely NO way I’m doing th-the ‘magical route’ and… and I’m still not even sure you weren’t just messing with me. I want to bring one of the portraits of my mother, and put her in the sitting room. Over the fireplace. B-but that means no kissing there, because I don’t want her staring at us. Then I want thrones, for the throne room. Proper thrones, not just poofy chairs. Because I’m not sitting on the floor, and if we have audiences with anyone (which we should), we’ll need a proper throne room. And I want to go to the ocean, every few years at least. I want to sit on the beach with you and watch the sunset, preferably on our anniversary. And I want a dog. Not a small dog, a big dog. Like a hunting dog. I-I don’t know if you like dogs, but I’d like one. And if I get a dog, Morgana is going to want a dog too, so we’ll just have to have two big dogs and… and…”

I glanced up at this point amid my rush of words that spilled out unchecked. And dropped off at the sight of Grier’s face. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen his eyes so wide. I thought they might fall out of his head. I shifted nervously, glancing down at our hands then back up at him. Not sure what it was I saw on his features and suddenly feeling shy.

“O-or… or you know… we could talk about it more… i-if you wanted-”

Once again he cut off my words with a kiss. I started at first, then instantly melted against him. He weakly pulled me closer, and I obliged his whim, until he could wrap his arm around my neck. He fell sideways to the mattress and onto his back, pulling me with him, releasing my hand to grope up my side. Slipping beneath my loose tunic to skim over my bare skin. My heart leaped and thudded and I fed him a tiny gasp.

“W-wait, you’re still-” I tried to pull away, but the goblin stubbornly kept himself latched around me. I dared not pull too hard, as I didn’t want to hurt him. “Y-you’re still healing.” I managed to mumble out against his lips.

“I don’t care.” He growled, but dropped back, peering up at me draped over him. “I just… I don’t care… I’m so… I’m just so…” He pulled me down, kissing me again. It was softer this time, as tender as any first kiss. But so full to bursting of emotion that I felt like I could taste it in my heart. After a few hot breaths, he finally pulled back again. “... Exactly how long have I been out??” He teased.

A pained look swept across my face, and his hand quickly came around to cup my jaw again soothingly. “I-I thought… I thought you were going to die…” I whispered, my voice as weak as his touch, “I thought I was going to lose you… a-and then I realized… I realized I had been so s-scared of having something to lose… that I didn’t even realize I was already losing it… I didn’t…” I took a deep steadying breath. “I-I told myself that if you woke up… if you got better… I wouldn’t... I-I … I don’t want to spend the rest of my life w-wondering… wondering what I could have had… but was too afraid to want…”

“... And what do you want?” He asked quietly as my voice petered out, his scarlet eyes growing warm.

“... I want you, Grier…” I breathed, the air fluttering in my chest, and his grip tightened at the sound of his name falling from my lips, “I want you. I want all of you…”

When our mouths met again, it was not with heat. It was… soft… Like petals brushing together. As delicate as a champagne flute, and filled with that same bubbly sweetness… I sunk into his mouth, as deep as I could go. I never wanted to come up for air. I fell beneath the waves of his emotion and I was content to let myself drown that I could fill my lungs with it. The warmth I had been missing filled my chest; that warmth that only he could bring to me. And it spread out to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

I’m not sure how long we remained interlaced together, our mouths moving in unison. But finally, we pulled apart. Neither one initiating our separation, both simply feeling it was the right moment to. I felt his breath on my face and realized I had closed my eyes. I let them slowly flutter open, and when I looked down at those dazzlingly scarlet eyes… I smiled.

His hand came up, his thumb tracing across my lips. Marveling at the shape of them. Which only made my smile grow, though I flushed shyly at his attention and darted my eyes to the side. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smiled… A soft wonder filled those ruby reds of his, and I suddenly and desperately longed to kiss him again. To taste every inch of him that my mouth could reach. Instead I slowly started to sit up. Gently pulling him with me.

“Y-you need to eat.” I told him softly. “To build up your strength…” I caught his hand as he slowly let it slide down my cheek, and I pressed it against my chest above my heart. “You need to get better. All the way better.”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Good.” I said in a warning tone. “B-because I swear to the Gods and all that is holy, if you ever put me through that again, I will kill you.”

His boisterous laughter was drowned out by an eager knock at the door, quickly followed by said door opening. Hibik bustled in, near vibrating with delight. Tears in his eyes. I quickly adjusted myself to put a little space between us, my blush darkening.

“My King!” He cried, coming over, then bowing repeatedly. “Oh! Blesha’la ontow’a, you are awake!

“Ah, Hibik!” He grinned, reaching out to clasp the smaller goblin’s extended hand. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Likewise, my King.” He bowed repeatedly, shaking Grier’s hand vigorously. “Please, please tell me if I can be of any assistance! I have missed serving you with all my heart.”

“Well, my old friend,” He mused, “It seems I need to get back to full strength.” He brought his now freed hand up to stroke my cheek again, and I felt a fresh flush rising to my face at his touch. “After all, I have a Prince to marry!”

My eyes widened slightly at that. “... A-ah… O-oh…. Ummm…”

Hibik also fell silent, suddenly looking down at his feet and shuffling them. Grier looked back and forth between the two of us. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed.

“... Am I missing something here?”

“Well, my King, the thing… Per your wishes… ah.. The thing... the thing is… ah…” Hibik stammered, then glanced at me desperately.

I cleared my throat, hiding the twitching smile at the corners of my lips. “The thing is…technically…. technically… we’re already married.”

Grier stared at me for a long, long moment.

“... I beg your pardon?”

….

It took three days and many loud arguments to convince the goblin that he could not, in fact, nullify the marriage license just to ‘do it the right way’. And no, it didn’t matter that he was the King. It would in turn put our Treaty at risk, and would cause far too many ramifications, many that were possibly not even conceivable at that moment. It took a week for him to stop grumbling about it at every opportunity.

I stayed with him throughout that time. Making sure he ate. Watching him sleep. The first night I woke him up twice, just to be certain he could be roused. He was not a fan of that, but as I seemed insistent, he would merely blink at me a few times, give an exasperated sigh, then snuggle deeper into my arms. It delighted him endlessly that I had completely given up any semblance of pretending we should sleep separately. So he indulged my anxious checking and fussing to the best of his ability. As long as it meant I was never more than an arms length away.

Now I tried not to stare too much, tried to limit it to the occasional glance over at him. My nerves were shot, but despite the anxiousness swelling around me… Every time our eyes met, he smiled. And I felt my heart skip. 

Morgana bounced eagerly, alternating between walking at our side and darting ahead. She circled around us, as we were moving far too slowly for her liking, checking and assessing each bobble and bit in the hall on the way to the gardens.

Grier stumbled weakly, and I jerked forward to catch him. He looked up at me, flashing his pearly whites. “I’m alright.” He assured me.

“Perhaps we should wait until you are a little stronger-”

He waved his free hand, using my offered arm to carefully straighten himself. “As you refuse to leave my side for more than a minute, and Morgana informed me you haven’t been outside since I fell ill,” he began, his voice breathy, “You leave me no choice but to forcibly escort you to the gardens, my young Prince.”

“I-I think you are… exaggerating a little to say that I r-refuse-” I stammered, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand.

The King chuckled. “Mmm. Alright then, have it your way.” He interrupted, casting me a sidelong glance. “As your proper etiquette and honor will not allow you to leave your King’s side when he is under duress, it is my responsibility to be certain that you see some sunlight now and again.” His smile grew as Morgana darted back over to us. “Besides, I am bored of my rooms. The fresh air will do me some good, I am sure.”

Morgana returned his grin, bouncing in place. “Just wait until you see the surprise we have planned for you!” She told us. “It’ll make you both feel all better.”

I sighed, relenting and pushing her hair back out of her face for perhaps the hundredth time since we had started our trek. “Chickadee, where do you keep all your energy?” She giggled. “I’m tired just watching you.”

She pushed my hand away and started to dart back up the hallway. “Well, maybe if you ever slept anymore, you wouldn’t be so tired, Niko!” She exclaimed.

I cleared my throat and avoided Grier’s scolding eye. I also pretended not to notice he kept his arm wrapped around mine as we continued down the hall. It was better, I told myself. I could offer him more support that way. He still wasn’t back to his full strength yet, and this walk would likely push him to the extremes of what he had. But we were almost there.

Morgana’s head disappeared around the corner, and I felt my brow scrunch slightly as I watched her. The goblin’s fingers squeezed my arm gently, and I glanced down at him.

“Everything alright?” He asked, his voice tender.

I sighed quietly. “... I-I’m not sure she…” I swallowed, looking down at our feet. “M-maybe I didn’t explain King Tibertius’ passing to her as well as I should have…” My brow furrowed a little more. “Perhaps I was… too cold… I don’t think she understands-”

“You were very gentle.” He assured me, giving my arm another gentle squeeze and falling silent for a moment as we rounded the same corner we had seen Morgana disappear past. But when he spotted her further up the hall, dancing from foot to foot until she saw us again then darting off once more, he continued softly. “She’s young. And I don’t think she was very close to your father. She may not have fully processed it yet, being here.”

“How…” I stopped, but he gave me an encouraging nod. “H-how were you told? About your father, I mean?”

Grier thought about that for a moment, and we walked arm in arm quietly down the hall.

“It was… sudden.” He replied after a time. “He was badly injured in a skirmish…. I’m sure future historians will cite that as the instigating incidence of the hostility between our people…” I winced, but he patted my arm reassuringly. “That morning he was fine, and we… I am sure we broke fast together, because we usually did, but I don’t remember that day specifically… Then by that evening, he had passed.”

I winced. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I apologize-”

“It’s ok.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember much at all from then. I don’t think I even knew he had been injured until both him and my mother missed dinner with me that evening. And I wasn’t brought to see him… not until after he had passed and they had… cleaned him up.” He tilted his head to the side, thinking for a long moment. “I remember being… sad, but more confused. I kept… forgetting, I guess. I would expect to see him places, and I think I asked about it once or twice before it really sank in that he was just… gone. And this is despite the fact that I saw his body.”

His steps had slowed, and I matched them carefully. After a moment, we had both come to a full stop, and he turned towards me, sliding his hands down to catch mine. I hesitated, trying to figure out what he needed in that moment. An apology? A story of my own? Perhaps he wanted space, or silence… or did he want some sort of embrace? I faltered, staring down at our hands and carefully running my thumbs over his. And feeling wholly inadequate not knowing how to comfort him. If that was even what he needed…

“... Morgana will be alright,” He told me after a few moments of silence, “She has you. And she is safe here.” Grier gave my hands a gentle squeeze, and I nodded timidly. The goblin shook himself, and I could hear his smile lacing his next words. “But come! Let’s not spoil our first outing in weeks.” I met his eyes, and felt a little more confident at the warmth in them. “We can talk more later, if you want to.”

I followed his lead as he turned to finish the last stretch before the main doors to the gardens. I didn’t even bother with an excuse, keeping his hand locked in my own and tucking it in my elbow. He moved a little closer, hooking his arm in mine until our thighs almost brushed as we walked.

Morgana had managed to push the massive door open on her own, and was waiting excitedly on the stairs before the gardens. She smiled at us as we approached then waved for us to follow her before taking off down the steps and onto the gravel. It crunched delightfully under her little feet, and I took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air as we made our way down the stairs as well, then out onto the path. The sun was bright and warm despite the chill, and I almost sighed as it splashed across my face. A few yards down, we rounded one of the hedges to find a thick blanket spread over the grass. There was a basket set there, and a few books, as well as some flowers tied in bundles that had Morgana’s signature roots and stems still attached. Safa and Seoc waited there, and they bowed to us as we approached. I felt a slight flush rise to my face, but tried not to let my step falter as I guided the King over.

My sister was already digging into the basket, pulling out dishes and bundles of food to pass to the other goblins, who helped her set the blanket. I couldn’t resist watching Safa with a rather critical eye, considering the way she interacted with my sister. I hadn’t had a chance to properly vet her before everything had happened, and found myself a little untrusting of her. After all, what did I know of this goblin? And she had been spending a lot of time with Morgana while I was tending the King. What if she was not the right influence for an impressionable young princess?

“Try not to scare the poor girl.” Came Grier’s quiet voice in my ear as I helped to carefully lower him to sit amid the pillows set on one side of the large blanket.

I looked at him in surprise, and his grin nearly split his face. I carefully fixed my expression, though I couldn’t completely hide the tightness in my voice as I replied. “I do not know what you mean, Your Majesty.”

Grier scoffed, tugging on my vest until I hesitantly settled onto the ground beside him. “Don’t start with that again.” He warned. Then he jerked his chin at the others a few feet away. “Your sister’s new Lady in Waiting. I saw that look.”

“What look?” I grumbled, my voice equally as soft as I watched Safa whisper something to Morgana. My sister laughed, glancing over at us. I felt my cheeks flush slightly.

The King’s chuckle answered me. “I had all of the ladies screened before I let them meet your sister.” He told me, shifting to sit a little closer to me. I stiffened at his proximity, feeling my face flush again. “Safa is from a good family, and she has a kind heart. Give her a chance, yes?”

I resisted the urge to scowl, considering the pair as they whispered and giggled to each other. Though I had to admit, Morgana did seem very pleased with her new Lady. Perhaps Safa felt my gaze on her, because her eyes darted up to me. I saw her shuffle nervously, offering me a slight bow. She glanced over at Morgana, then at Seoc, as if uncertain what to do with herself beneath my scrutiny.

Grier smacked my shoulder lightly. I started, turning my attention to him. “Leave the girl be.” He scolded good-naturedly. Then his smile tweaked at the corners. “Though I have to say, I like seeing this protectiveness of yours. Especially being on this side of it… Perhaps the father bear in you will be a boon to us in the near future.”

I didn’t get a chance to comment on that, as I had to suddenly struggle to keep myself upright as Morgana launched herself into me. My face instantly softened, and she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“This is lovely, Chickadee,” I told her, “Thank you for it.”

“It was Safa’s idea!” She replied, turning to settle properly on my lap and pulling a dish of finger foods over to us. “She said you and Grier deserved some quiet time together now that he was feeling better, and said since you have both been cooped up inside the fresh air would be good for you.”

I pretended not to notice Grier’s smug smirk, taking the offered nibble from her. “W-well… that was very thoughtful of her.”

“I did the flowers though!” She explained through a mouthful of food, sliding the tray over to Grier. “And I helped her cook!”

“Then we owe both of you our gratitude, little bird.” He mused, taking a piece of food and tossing it in the air to catch it in his mouth. She giggled, then promptly tried to do the same with far less success.

She babbled on about this and that for a while as we ate, then bounded out of my lap to sprint across the green. Safa turned from her conversation with Seoc a few yards away, and both beamed at the Princess who tugged lightly on the goblin’s colorful skirts. I watched quietly, taking a slow sip of the hot coffee my sister had sloppily poured us. I heard Grier’s relaxed sigh, turning my attention back to him.

“... How are you feeling?” I asked him nervously.

He groaned lightly, scooching a little closer and leaning his shoulder against my arm. “If one more person asks me that, I’m going to scream.”

I raised one brow, trying to pretend my heart wasn’t racing at his touch. “I suppose that would mean your lungs feel better then, yes?”

He laughed, settling himself somehow even closer to me. I swallowed nervously, glancing at him out the corner of my eye. “I’m tired.” He admitted, sluggishly pulling a tray of sugar powdered pastries closer. “But it’s nice to get out of that bed.”

“Perhaps we should head back.” I fretted, moving as if to call my sister over.

The goblin shook his head, popping one of the pastries in his mouth and resting his head on my shoulder. “Not yet.” He breathed. “I’m enjoying myself.” 

I tried not to shift noticeably, but couldn’t help a tiny shuffle. I even cleared my throat, glancing back at my sister and the other goblins. But they were too far away to be properly bothersome to my discomfort.

“What about you?” I looked over at him at his voice, his scarlet eyes rolling up to meet mine. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not the one who was…” I stopped, dropping off. Feeling my throat close up at the reminder.

I jumped as his hand slid over my thigh, and my heart somehow raced even faster. I wasn’t sure what to do with my eyes. I was pretty sure I had stolen too many peeks at him for me to reasonably be allowed another. So I stared at the ground a few feet away, angled slightly so I could still see him out the corner of one.

“Nikostratus, you need to take care of yourself too.” He told me softly, and his hand ran soothingly back and forth on my leg. “... You can’t just… throw yourself aside for the sake of everyone else…”

I slowly put my cup down in its saucer, and dropping my gaze to stare at my palms. “... I’m fine.”

He gave a soft ‘hmmm’ at that, but didn’t push it further as Morgana darted back over and plopped back into my lap. I stiffened slightly, feeling my face burn hot realizing that Grier was still leaning heavily against my shoulder. But if she noticed, she didn’t seem to mind.

“Niko! Can you do my hair?” She asked. “I want to show Safa what it looks like when you braid it. I brought the oils and comb!”

I hesitated, glancing over at the young noble lady as she sheepishly shifted closer. She stood at the edge of the blanket, her head politely bowed. A few beads of nervous sweat burst out at the collar of my shirt. But… no one seemed to bat an eye at the King currently lazing on my arm. I supposed we were technically married now, after all. That must be why...

I tried to calm my nerves, nodding briskly. “A-alright… but why don’t you read to us while I do?”

Safa brought over a small basket and a book, offering both to me with a shy smile. I considered her for a moment before taking it with a polite thanks. Morgana snatched the book from my hands and flipped to what she described as her ‘favorite goblin story yet’. Seoc and Safa began cleaning up our meal as Morgana started, and I carefully kneaded the oils through her hair. Grier adjusted himself to free my arms, slowly laying down beside me with his head on my bent legs. I looked around nervously… but again, no one seemed to even notice his switch except for me. And I had to admit, having him so close let me relax a little. I didn’t have to check on him as much when I could feel his chest expand with each breath against the crook of my knees.

I forced myself to focus on my sister’s hair, and carefully outlined the tracks with the tip of the comb before I began to form the tight braids along her scalp. I had always loved how fluffy and soft my sister’s hair was; it reminded me of my mother’s. Though hers had been a deep raven black while Morgana’s was more like a dark auburn. It was just as thick, however, and I worked gently to loosen the individual curly strands from each other properly before I smoothed them into shape with the oil. The oil would also help to keep the moisture in the wiry strands, and would help protect her scalp as I tugged the braids firmly into place. I started from the center, working my way to nearly the back of her skull before smoothing out the natural poof at the end of the strands and moving back to her hairline to start again.

I was distinctly aware of Grier’s eyes watching my fingers nimbly braid her hair. Then Safa’s once she had finished clearing the picnic. She kneeled down a few feet away and watched with unconcealed curiosity. I felt a little stiff with the audience. But the King’s eyes drooped lazily as Morgana read on, and Safa proffered a tentative question here and there as I worked, spoken with such reverence I found myself slowly relaxing. I answered her as best I could, my voice low so as to not interrupt my sister’s avid reading. She still scolded us for interrupting, and I hid a smirk in the corners of my mouth. Seoc stood a few feet away, also listening quietly with his head cocked to the side but politely turned.

As the sunlight slowly drifted further away from our cozy little spot, I saw Morgana stifle her third yawn. A glance at Grier told me he was also drifting in and out of the waking world. I finished the last plait along the top of Morgana’s head and brushed the back out into a gentle cloud of natural curls. I worked some of the extra oil in with my palms and watched the curls tighten slightly with the added moisture.

“I believe the end times might be coming,” I mused, as she yawned again, and she and Grier both spun to look up at me, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you so tired. Especially both at once.”

“The Princess was up early with me this morning, My Prince,” Safa offered politely, her voice soft, “She was very eager to help prepare this meal for you and the King.”

“Perhaps then it’s an early night for us all.” I suggested, smoothing back her hair one last time. Grier stretched lightly and yawned, starting to ease himself up.

Morgana ran her own hands over the top of her head, feeling the braids and giving me a sleepy smile. “Thank you, Niko.”

I pinched her cheek. “Thank you, chickadee… And Lady Safa. For setting this up for us.”

“It was my pleasure, My Prince,” Safa bowed her head, then glanced at Morgana, “... Should I bring you back to your rooms Princess? Perhaps we can work on your goblinese for a while before bed.”

“Yeah, I like that idea.” Morgana nodded, turning and wrapping her arms around me. “Goodnight, Niko.” She peeked shyly at Grier from my neck as I returned her hug. “Goodnight, Grier.”

“Goodnight, little bird.” He replied with a smile. “And thank you, again. I look forward to returning the favor someday soon.”

We saw them off as I helped Grier to his feet. Seoc bowed deeply, offering his aid as well, but the King waved him away. Dismissing him for the rest of the evening for a deserved break. We walked with him to the entrance of the castle, then bid him a farewell as he scurried off with the blanket and baskets tucked under his arms.

We walked quietly down the hall, back towards Grier’s rooms. He managed on his own for a while, but by the time we had reached the bottom of the stairs, he started to lean against me heavily again.

“We shouldn’t have stayed out for so long.” I fussed as we rounded the final corner before his hallway. “You can barely stand.”

Grier scoffed away my concern. “It’s good for me. Besides, I enjoyed spending time with you and your sister.” His head cocked sluggishly to the side. “I think she’s a little jealous of me now.” A grin split his thin lips. “I seem to be hogging all your attention.”

I sputtered lightly, a flush coming to my cheeks as I tried unsuccessfully to provide a better conclusion for him. The goblin merely laughed at that, looping his arms around mine and resting his cheek against it. My heart skipped again, and I blinked a few times to try and clear the swirl in my head. I checked about, but we seemed to be alone in the last stretch to his rooms.

His chambers were blessedly dark and still, and I felt heavier as soon as the second door clunked closed behind us. Grier heaved a sigh, plopping down on the bed and kicking off his boots. I moved from where I had removed my vest as he pulled off his top too, going to pick his shoes to place with the rest. His hand caught the edge of my collar as I bent down, giving me a gentle yank.

“Leave them,” He silenced me as I began to protest, hooking his arm about my waist and persuading me over to him, “Your sister isn’t the only one who was working so selflessly all day.” A hot blush rushed my face as he tugged my tunic loose from my trousers and started undoing the ties. “You need to get some rest.”

“That’s my line.” I mumbled dryly, and he chuckled.

“I can’t even fathom the last time you got a good night’s sleep, Nikostratus,” He told me, slowly coming up to his knees, then his feet, standing on the mattress so he could roll my tunic up, “The day outside was a good start, but now we need to get you to bed.”

I nervously finished what he had started, pulling my shirt off. I started to fold it, but the King snatched it from my hands and tossed it to the side. I opened my mouth to stammer a protest again, and found his mouth there to silence it. He wrapped his arms slowly around my shoulders, his bare torso draped against mine. The goblin was taller than me, standing on the mattress as he was, and I had to drop my head back to comfortably return the kiss. I fed him a huffy breath as he coaxed my mouth open with his tongue, slipping past my defenses. Heat was already beginning to build in me at his touch, and I dared snake my own hands over his thighs. Then I hooked them up, catching his weight in my palms to pull his legs around me. I could taste his grin, and slid an arm under him as I carefully climbed onto the bed. Carrying him along with me.

We dropped together to the mattress, and I crouched over him timidly as our kiss broke momentarily. Grier brought his hand around, tracing the back of his knuckles along my jaw. My eyes darted back down to his lips, and before I could meet his gaze again he gently stretched up to sink into my own lips. I kissed him again, pressing his head down into the pillows, slowly lowering my body to be tucked alongside his. Dangling my torso over him with my weight on my elbows. He freed his other hand from around my neck to skim his fingers lightly up my side. I shivered at his touch, and he nipped my bottom lip lightly in response.

I drew back obediently, meeting his eyes shyly. His hand at my jaw turned, bringing his thumb to trace along my lips.

“... Have I mentioned how happy you make me?” He purred softly, a warm smile filling his face.

I blushed again, my eyes darting away. But he held me still with his hand, coming up to kiss me lightly once more. Just a quick peck before he dropped back into the pillows.

“How about how handsome you are?” He continued. “Or how lucky I am that I get to have you as my husband?” A small scowl came to his lips. “Are you certain we cannot simply null the license and do it properly this time?”

I stifled a laugh, my face blazing hot as I shyly rolled away. Dropping to the bed beside him. He quickly shifted and scuttled back into my arms, tucking his body against mine once more and bringing his hands to my face. His scarlet eyes bounced back and forth between mine.

“... You never told me how you feel about everything…”

I swallowed nervously. “E-everything?” I questioned in a soft stutter, timidly running my hand over the edge of his waist and letting my gaze fall to the side.

He nodded. “You’re my husband now…. And I’m yours…” His thumb skimmed along my cheek bone. “... Is that ok?”

I shivered again, then smoothed my hand into the small of his back. Nodding shyly. “Y-yeah. I’m… adjusting. B-but…” My tongue was a little too large for my mouth, and I tried to shift it uncomfortably. “I-I… I’m… I’m happy…” I felt my cheeks burn, and blinked fervently as if to fan them. “... I think…” I finished lamely.

Grier chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead against mine. “You seem… better. About talking,” He rubbed his thumb against my cheek again, “And touching.”

“I’m… I’m trying…” I swallowed again. “B-because… I… I m-missed this… I missed… you… ” I closed my eyes to hide from his. “I was… I was afraid I wouldn’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured me, leaning in until his breath splashed against my face. “Not without you.”

My lips twisted slightly at the corners. “So next time you’ll just be sure to take me with you when you visit death’s doorstep?” I asked dryly.

Another chuckle. “Mmm. No, not quite.” I felt him shift, then felt his lips against my cheek. “Not unless we are both very old and grey. And even then, I would rather not take you with me.”

“I would rather go first.” I mumbled, and felt his fingers tighten. I opened my eyes reflexively to see the worry in his. “... J-just one day… One hour maybe… So… So I don’t ever have to… t-to…” I blushed. “... to live without you.”

He brought our lips together for a feather light kiss, and I pressed my hand into the warm flesh of his lower back. Bringing my other hand up to bury in the wild hair at the base of his skull.

When he leaned back, we lay silently for a bit, staring at each other. Grier was the one to break the silence, a slight furrow forming between the ridges of his pronounced brow.

“Perhaps it was my imagination… But,” He tilted his head to the side, “I swear I… I was dreaming about you. But they felt real. Like memories?”

“I was… talking to you. While you slept…” I glanced away. “I thought maybe… maybe you would hear my voice and want to come back…”

“What did you tell me?” He asked curiously.

I blushed again. “A-ah… I… I told you about Morgana, when she was little…. A-and about Josep… and about my mother…” His hand gently guided me back to him, until I met his eyes once more.

“... Can you tell me again?” A small, sly smirk played across his lips. “I’ll be a better listener this time, I swear.”

I gave another timid nod. “O-ok…”

He smoothed his palm along my face. “But not tonight. You need to sleep.”

I frowned. “I’m fine-”

“You’re not fine.” He cut me off. “You spent the last two weeks watching me teeter on the edge of death. All the while ruling the Kingdom, and caring for Morgana, and anything else you could shoulder.” He ran his hand to the back of my head, gently squeezing my skull in his palm. “You married a dying man, your old guard tried to kill you, your father died... And those are just the things I know about...” I winced, and he brought his forehead back to mine. “Now it’s time to relax. Let someone else take the burden for a time while you rest.”

I started to shake my head. “Y-you’re still healing-”

“So are you.” He argued, squeezing me again as I winced once more. His fingers slowly loosened, then he traced them back and forth along the back of my head. “... Let me take care of you now, hm? I’m strong enough for that.”

I didn’t say anything, but met his eyes bashfully again. A sound warmth reached those dazzling scarlet reds of his. I sighed deeply, and he smirked with an almost irritating smugness in recognition of my defeat. Shifting to roll closer to me and wrap his arms about my shoulders. Tucking my head against his neck and resting his chin on the top of my head. One hand began to draw slow lines up and down between my shoulder blades, the other cupping the back of my head. I drew in a slow, deep breath, pulling the scent of him into my lungs. Feeling myself slowly relax as I lay there with him, my eyes getting heavier by the minute. I wove my own arms around him, encompassing him with my own body even as he buried my head in his. 

It didn’t take much longer for me to fall into a deep, deep sleep. Securely and safely wrapped up in Grier’s arms...

....

“What could possibly have been going through his mind?” I scowled slightly, resisting the urge to let my nose scrunch up as well. “What possible thought could he have had to think that was even remotely acceptable to say?”

Grier smirked. “Well, I’m certain he had his reasons dear.”

“Impossible! It’s absolutely illogical, and hare brained at best.” I argued, then glanced at him sidelong. “... Don’t call me ‘dear’.”

The goblin grinned up at me. “How about ‘sweetheart’?” My small scowl twitched at the corners and he laughed. The sound echoed around us, bouncing off the stone walls. “I am just attempting to find the perfect pet name for you, love.”

I shook my head. “You’re ‘just attempting’ to change the subject. Are you afraid I’ll have that nobleman hoisted by the ankles for his blasphemy?” I returned. “.... D-don’t call me ‘love’.”

He drew in an excited breath. “Ah, excellent. You’re starting to get flustered.” He bared his pointy teeth at me. “That’s a good sign.”

I scoffed at him, feeling a slight flush pinch at the balls of my cheeks. “I-I am not!”

The King sidled up to me, snaking his arms around mine to match my long stride with a skipping step. “Everything is going perfectly to plan then.”

I chanced a quick peek around to be sure that we were alone in the halls. It had been nearly a month since the goblin King had first woken from his fever induced slumber, and every day a little more of his strength found its way back to him. And every day, he grew a little more bold. A little more affectionate.

I still didn’t care for over the top displays around others, even the attendants and guards posted strategically through the castles. Most especially around my sister. But found I didn’t mind so much the little ones… a pinky finger hooked around mine. A gentle hand on my shoulder in passing. A thigh tucked against my own when we were sitting. Not that anyone else seemed to mind. I just couldn’t seem to completely shake the uneasiness I felt at the idea of other eyes seeing his affections for me.

But Grier was nothing if not adaptable. He relished tugging me into a dark corner to steal a kiss when no one was around. Or palming my ass when we left a room. Once or twice he had even gotten a few buttons on my shirt undone in a stairwell before my shyness and good sense had gotten the better of me. He seemed to enjoy my flushed face, and I couldn’t help the way my heart skipped at his little smug smiles of accomplishment after each daring theft. And when we were alone? … Suffice it to say I was pretty sure I had taken more cold baths in the last month than the rest of my life combined. I also was pretty well versed in the goblinese alphabet in any order I may wish to recite it. Grier relished hearing me attempt to distract myself from his attentions; I was pretty sure he considered it a personal challenge to get me hot and bothered when I was trying very hard not to. And as his strength returned, it was getting harder and harder to remind him he was still healing and to take it slow.

This evening though, as we walked arm in arm, I felt a frown settle on my lips as I checked to be certain we were alone. I glanced around, a furrow digging into my brow.

“... W-where are we going?” I checked over my shoulder, my frown deepening. “I-I don’t… I don’t think this is the way to your rooms…”

The goblin chuckled, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. “You’re really quite hopeless aren’t you, my young Prince?” He mused. “We haven’t even been in the right wing for some time now. Didn’t you notice we went up a flight of stairs??”

I glanced around again, but despite the slight air of unfamiliarity, the hallway looked just like any other. I swallowed a sigh. I had gotten lost a fair few times in the last month. It was an informal royal decree from both Morgana and Grier that I was not allowed to wander the halls unaccompanied anymore. It seemed I had a knack for ending up in quite the opposite place of my intended destination.

“I-it did seem… a little longer of a walk than normal.” I mumbled sheepishly. I was lying, of course, as it hadn’t really. Then shot him a sidelong look. “... Ah… where are we going then?”

Grier’s grin turned sly, and he glanced at me out the corner of his eye. “It’s a surprise.”

“But… but i-it’s late. Y-you shouldn’t be-”

The King scoffed, waving one hand errantly. “I have been given a clean bill of health now, pet. I am free to surprise my husband to my heart’s content.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to sort out what he meant by that. “... D-don’t call me ‘pet’.” I hesitated, looking around again. “So w-where-”

“Still a surprise.” He interrupted me, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “But I promise we are almost there.”

I relented with a stifled huff, letting him lead me as he would. I couldn’t help looking around curiously, but simply had no head for the layout of the castle. It was far more complex than the one I had grown up in, and even there I had some trouble from time to time. It had taken me nearly my full 25 years to grow comfortable with it; I imagined it would take much longer than that for me to settle into familiar paths in this castle.

“Are you looking forward to your brother’s coronation?” Grier asked by way of distraction for my nerves.

I peeked at him, my frown returning slightly to the corners of my mouth. “... No.”

The goblin chuckled. “I would have thought you would be happy to have him on the throne. A much more level and reasonable head than your father, I am certain.”

I nodded my agreement, checking down one dark hallway we passed instinctively. “Of course. Crown Prince Valerianus will be an excellent ruler, a boon to his people.” My voice strayed into the old formal flatness from my youth. But then I stopped, staring down at our feet as we walked. “... I-I am not looking forward to the coronation itself.” I dropped off momentarily. “... Least of all because Morgana will be staying with m-my… my brother upon our return.” The word still tasted strange to me.

“Just for a few months.” He reminded me soothingly. “A season at each castle. I believe it is quite the fair arrangement.” He gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “It’ll go by faster than you think… What else worries you about the coronation?”

“... I don’t like parties.” I sighed. “I don’t like crowds of people… I-I prefer to be alone.”

“Except for me?” He offered.

I blushed, stammering for a moment. “Except f-for you...” I amended quietly.

His grin returned, and he tugged me to a halt. “Excellent. Because we are here.”

We stood beside a massive set of pine doors, inlaid with dark carved oak. A delicate but intricate pattern wove beautifully across each, and I considered that for a long moment. I looked around, then back at the doors, my head naturally tilting to the side as I tried to figure exactly where “here” was. Higher up, of course. Now that I was aware of it, we had climbed at least two sets of stairs to get here. But aside from the beautiful carved doors (which I was fairly certain I had never seen before) there was nothing overly distinct about our location, and nothing was familiar.

“Ah… sh-should I know where we are?” I asked timidly. Afraid he would be insulted that I did not, or disappointed his surprise was not completely evident to me.

The goblin was nearly dancing from foot to foot in his excitement. “Why don’t you open the doors and see?”

I hesitated, cocking one eyebrow at him. Then released his hand to push the left side door open. Grier pushed open the other, then stood with his hands behind his back while I assessed the room beyond.

It was a foyer. I knew that much. A grand fireplace to one side, a plush couch flanked by a pair of armchairs (matching, I was surprised to find) and a white marble table. To the other side, another pair of armchairs set on either side of a circular table set with a decadent chess set (those pieces didn’t quite seem to belong to each other though). I glanced over at Grier, and he nodded, encouraging me to go deeper with a large grin on his face. He jerked his head to the right, and I obediently went through the door there. A large reading room, with a tall window set into the length of one wall, a soft looking bench beside it. We were in the tower then, I surmised, craning my neck back to follow the floor to ceiling shelves with a thin ladder and narrow ledge at the middle to reach the second level of books. I could smell the old pages, and lingered for a moment. More plush furniture, cozy and soft looking. A few over the top decadent pillows, and a fair few knick-knacks, though they were neatly set about the room.

I turned back to Grier in the doorway, opening my mouth to speak. But he merely gestured for me to follow him back into the foyer, then across to the opposite door. This one was a closet, long and narrow, with a few cloth mannequins in between the shallow alcoves stuffed with vibrant colored clothes. At least on one side. On the other, my eyes widened slightly upon seeing dark, solid colors. Coats. Vests. White or cream shirts. Greys and blues mostly, with a few other colors smattered in between. Not stuffed, as the opposite side was, but neatly arranged and ordered by item types. Vests in one place. Coats in another. Tunics and shirts in the last. Boots and belts on hooks and shelves between. There were mirrors in the corner, each more decadent than the last and making the space seem even more full than it was.

Again I opened my mouth, the realization coming to me, but the goblin put his hands on my hips and started to push me towards the door in the back. I stammered a few useless sounds, but he persisted. Steering me through to the next room.

A bath. Large, with pearl and opal encrusted pools and delicate marble steps. I craned my neck back, finding a beautiful mosaic of colorful and sparkling tile in the ceiling. I marveled at it for a moment, breathing in the warm, steam filled air. Listening to the soothing sound of trickling water. A few raised basins lined the walls, with intricate stone carvings set into their backboards where water trickled into them before dripping off the sides and down to some unseen place in the ground beneath.

“There’s more.” He told me before I could speak. Catching my hand and tugging me through the door on the opposite side from where we had entered.

I followed behind, feeling in a daze. A bedroom this time, as evident by the bed large enough that I was certain a giant could comfortably lay sideways in it. It had tall, dark oak beams, and was filled with plush pillows along the headboard. Heavy curtains were neatly tied to the posters with golden rope, and there was another large fireplace off to one side. I recognized some of the bobbles and odds and ends from my time spent clearing his chambers. I dug my heels in, yanking Grier to a stop as I marveled at the room.

“A bed so big you could lose me in it.” He reminded me, his grin still ear to ear. “I hope this one with suffice. It was quite the commission.”

“... Th-this is… for us?” I mumbled timidly, and felt my face suddenly flush dark. 

He laughed. “Well, as long as it matches what you wanted.” He tugged my hand a final time. “But there’s one last surprise here for you.”

I obediently followed after him, letting him lead the way to the back corner. There was an archway, with a small little room to one side and a spiral stairwell to the other. The room was rounded on one side, with beautiful colored glass windows. The walls were a soft yellow, and the furniture was decidedly small. A small bed, a soft looking armchair with a sheepskin draped over it. And a cradle, alongside the window. My blush went even darker.

“Is it how you imagined?” He asked, stepping to the side to give me a better view. “I’m not sure what human nurseries look like, so I am afraid it might lean a little more to the goblin side of things.” His own scarlet eyes appraised the room. “We can of course change anything you’d like.”

“It… i-it looks…” I stepped shyly into the center, slowly pivoting on one foot. The setting sun broke through the glass, bathing the room into an almost magical glow. “... It looks… perfect…”

I jumped as his hands slowly came around my middle, and I felt him bury his face in the slope of my back. My breath fluttered from my chest, and I hesitantly rested my hands on his arms at my waist. A thousand thoughts rushed through my head at that moment, so quickly it was soon throbbing. Especially as his hands began to slowly rub against my abdomen.

I glanced at the doorway, then blinked a few times. “Wh-where do the stairs go?” I asked tentatively. Eager to distract myself from the heat of him at my back.

He gave me a gentle squeeze, then slid around to stand in front of me once more. “I thought you’d never ask.” The goblin took up my hands again. “Come.”

The spiral stairs were narrow, but not uncomfortably so, and I had no trouble following behind him. Our boots clicked on the stone, and I could barely keep up with his eager pace. The stairs let up to a large circular room at the top, devoid of furniture. The walls were mostly all glass, save for the stone archways supporting it, with thick curtains bunched along their length ready to be drawn. A door opened opposite us, leading to a balcony around the outside edge. But it was the center of the room that drew my attention.

It was filled with blankets, rugs, and large pillows of varying colors and patterns. Creating a soft nest of sorts, and encircled with white candles that were somehow already lit. Their flames flickered on the surface of the polished glass, making it look like we were surrounded by soft faerie fire. The ceiling was domed, and also completely glass, and as I stepped closer, I dropped my head back to look up at the swirl of pastels dancing across the sky as the sun began to set. The room was filled with the soft smell of flowers, and I saw them hanging from planters along the top edge of the stone pillars, draping down delicately. There was also a strategically placed set of stout, square glasses, and a tray of amber filled decanters. I could see the mountains for miles in almost every direction, and again slowly turned in place as I took it all in.

I felt eyes on me, and dropped my own from the heavens to find Grier’s waiting. He smiled at me, a little shyly. Obviously waiting for my final reaction. I looked around again, feeling as if my breath had been stolen from my lungs. I realized my mouth had dropped open a little, and quickly deigned to close it.

“Perhaps not what you had in mind when you said ‘a balcony’.” He mused. “But I thought it might still impress...” He gestured to the blankets and pillows at the center. “Fancy a drink to top off the evening? Perhaps to celebrate our new abode?”

“Th-that…” I fumbled for the right words, still a little dumbstruck. I swallowed hard. “That sounds… It would be.. a-ah... P-perfect.”

He motioned for me to sit, then walked around and carefully closed the curtains of the windows, leaving just the domed ceiling overhead. I stopped at the edge of the nest, hesitating for a moment before removing my boots. It didn’t seem appropriate to tread over the fabrics with them. I noticed a few petals flittered among the pillows, and pondered at exactly how they had managed to get so far from their source. The sun had all but completely sunk below the horizon now, and the inky night sky was beginning to seep into the pastels left in its wake. Slowly, I sat amid the pillows, craning my neck back to watch the darkness’ progression.

I heard him come up behind me, as well as the shuffle of him removing his own boots. The hairs on the base of my neck rose as he sank down to his knees at my back, then I felt the heat of his body once again as he slowly wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I shivered as his hot lips suddenly pressed to the side of my neck.

“What do you think?” He asked me softly. His breath warm against my skin.

I felt my face flush, and looked down at my hands in my lap. “O-of the rooms? Or… Or of all this?”

He gave a soft ‘hmm’ at that, then kissed my neck again. “Both.”

I peeked over at the stairs, trying to ignore the way he moved his hands back and forth over my shoulders. “... I-I like them… You ah… Y-you definitely were listening…”

He chuckled, and my eyes drooped as he pressed his lips against my skin once more. “My sweet Prince, I’m always listening to you.” One of his hands rolled to trace slowly down my front. “... And this?”

I swallowed nervously, then pretended to be too preoccupied with considering the room to notice his nimble fingers undoing the buttons on my vest. “I-it reminds me of… o-of that… umm…” I flushed a little darker, distracted. “... That first dinner…”

He nodded, slipping in a little closer. “Our first ‘date’, so to speak.” I could hear his smile in his next words. “You remember.”

I nodded. “O-of course I do… it was…i-it was...“ I dropped off, struggling to find the right word.

“Special?” He offered, and goosebumps shot across my skin at the word. I nodded again, resisting another shiver. He hummed his approval softly. “That was the intent… though I have an entirely different goal for how I’d like this night to end… But I want to ask you something first.”

My breath caught in my throat at that, and I turned slightly to look at him out the corner of my eye. His fingers had halted, and I found an unfamiliar seriousness waiting for me when I met his gaze. It made my mouth twitch down, and I turned to face him a little more. Curious what he could possibly want to ask that had him so uncharacteristically somber. The goblin took a steadying breath, easing his hands slowly back to cup on his lap.

“Nikostratus…” He paused, drawing in a breath, “... Will you marry me?”

I blinked at him. “... We’re already married.”

Grier scoffed angrily, brushing his hand through the air. “Yes yes, technicalities and legalities and all that. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“But that’s… that’s what you just asked-”

“No! I mean, yes, that is, but that’s not what I meant.” He gave an exasperated sigh. I felt my mouth twitch at the corners as his tentative expression turned to a scowl. The goblin shook his head, then took up both of my hands in his. “What I meant was… will you, Prince Nikostratus… will you be mine? And will you take me as yours?” I started to open my mouth, but he squeezed my hands. “Not because of a treaty, or in case I die without an heir. Not because I’m a King, and you’re a Prince. Or for our people, or even for the sake of peace. Not to make anyone else happy… but because I asked you… because I love you…” His scarlet eyes dropped down to our hands. “... And because you want to-”

“Yes.”

He jerked sharply. “... What?”

I nodded. “Yes. I will. Because you asked. Because I want to.”

“... Just like that?”

I smiled shyly at him, and I saw his eyes sparkle at the sight. “Just like that.”

He released one of my hands from his and brought it up, turning my face towards him properly. I met his eager lips with mine, shifting to twist at my waist. Bringing my own hand up to tentatively trace along the edge of his sharp jaw. We held that kiss for a long breath, relishing in it together. 

Then he moved, stretching and rolling himself around to come to my side. Easing my now unbuttoned vest off my shoulders and teasing his tongue between my lips. I shrugged the vest off, letting him toss it to the side without breaking our kiss. Feeling his hands return to begin untucking my tunic and undoing the strings to my trousers. My own hands reached for him, finding first his waist, then the hem of his pants. Gently tugging his own shirt loose, slipping my palms underneath to press against his warm, bare skin beneath. My heart leapt and thudded in my chest, and forgot how to breathe for a moment as he broke our kiss to roll my tunic up and over my head.

His hands came to my shoulders, pushing me firmly, until I fell onto my back amid the pillows. And he climbed on top, straddling me and planting his firm buttocks quite soundly on top of the swiftly growing bulge at my pelvis. I nearly groaned, and saw the same intense heat in his own eyes as I felt rippling through my body. I watched as he pulled off his own top, revealing his muscular torso and taut green skin to my hungry gaze. He tossed his shirt to the side as well and came back down, kissing first my mouth, then pushing my head to the side with his nose to begin slowly licking and sucking at the curve of my neck. My eyes rolled back and a shiver of delight rippled through me at the sensation.

“... A-are… Are you sure you’re… Y-you’re…” I stammered, unable to manage a complete sentence with his lips trailing across my skin.

I felt his hum against my throat, and gasped as he gently nipped at me. “Absolutely.”

Grier came back up to lean over me, his hair falling wildly about his shoulders as he bent down. Pressing our lips together again to reassure me of his words. His hands came to rest on either side of my head, and I let my own trace hesitantly up his bare arms. First to his shoulders, then slowly down his muscular back. I marveled again at the warmth and texture of his skin, and shivered as it seemed to remind me of my own exposed flesh. I heard his jaw click slightly as he opened it wide, sneaking his tongue back into my mouth. Winding it around mine. Another shiver passed through me, and I felt him shift. Rubbing against my cock through our pants and leaving my head spinning again. I fed him a shuddering breath as he ground his own member against me, sending a prickling heat racing through my body.

He unlocked our mouths, bringing one hand up to turn my face to the side before burying himself against the tender flesh beneath my ear. The sound of his tongue working against my skin coupled with his hot breath in my ear had my hands on his back looking for purchase to pull him closer. He trailed his sharp teeth across my skin, and I caught my hand in his hair as he worked his mouth slowly down my body. My fingers curled into those messy locks, and I started to prop myself up on one elbow as he moved lower and lower. Wondering where exactly he was going.

Scarlet eyes flicked up to me, and the heat there made my heart skip and sputter dangerously. “Lay back.” He breathed against my skin, his voice several octaves deeper with the husk of his arousal. 

I did as I was told, settling into the pillows once more with my heart in my throat. Trusting him as the more seasoned player for exploiting our arousals. He had certainly proved himself quite skilled in such carnal desires over the past month. I felt his mouth trail kisses down my abdomen, felt his hands massage at my sides. My own hand was still buried in his hair, and it twitched as his fingers curled around the hem of my pants. Pulling them down and freeing my cock from their quickly shrinking confines. I tried to not think too much about how I was now laid  bare before him, even as my heart thrummed. Luckily the blood was rushing through a fairly different head of mine at that moment, and my thoughts were congealed and fleeting at best. And as his hands slid up the back of my thighs to cup my buttocks, I lost even that.

I jerked as something firm and wet flicked at the head of my cock. Then gasped as the sensation returned. The pant of his hot breath against my pelvis brought the shocking clarity to my swirling brain that it was his tongue currently rolling over and licking at me with abandon. At first, I was so surprised my mouth dropped open. But as his long tongue wrapped and lapped at all my most sensitive parts, I decided I really didn’t care. More heat poured through my body, until I felt the tips of my fingers and toes go numb. I tightened my hand in his hair, and groaned loudly as his lips suddenly closed around my erection. Enveloping it in that hot, wet mouth of his. I thought I could feel the tantalizing brush of his sharp teeth along its length, and he began to rhythmically work his way up and down my shaft. I groaned again, trying not to writhe too much beneath his hot breath and lapping tongue. His hands massaged at my cheeks, slowly pushing them tightly together then spreading them apart.

I was glad for the soft pillows beneath me as I smashed my head back recklessly at the wave of pleasure that washed through me. My hand bobbed with his head, riding up and down the full length of me. I could feel his lips scrape the hair at my pelvis, and each deep thrust left me twitching more than the last. I curled one of my legs half around him, needing to touch him. To feel the heat of the rest of his body. His hands worked between my butt cheeks, and I felt the tip of one beginning to massage my hole.

Damnit. I thought to myself as a pulsing flash of light filled my vision. I started to try to pull away from him, feeling myself cresting on the edge of pleasure. But he stubbornly latched on, somehow managing to bury my cock deeper into his throat. I gasped, then moaned, my fingers in his hair spasming. I would have felt embarrassed by my sounds, had I the capacity for any thought other than that of the sensations of his mouth wrapped around me. His finger flicked inside me, and I smashed my head back again with that final straw.

I shuddered, crescendoing over the top and crashing back down on the other side in a hot, rippling mess. I felt my cock throb, pulsing my cum straight into Grier’s waiting mouth. I would have flushed in embarrassment, had my entire blood supply not been otherwise preoccupied at the moment. My body became in as much mush, my bones forgetting their solidity, my legs feeling numb. I blinked rapidly, trying to sort out exactly what had just happened, but my thoughts remained a hopeless swirling mess.

Before I could fully return to myself, Grier’s mouth found mine. My hand at the back of his head slipped to cup his neck, and with a weak grip I pulled him closer instinctively. He tasted salty, but not at all bad, and I welcomed his long tongue back into my mouth. Breathy with the lingering memory of its previous exploits. I felt myself slowly returning, and found his hands still massaging and playing with my ass. And was quite aware of his own cock rubbing against my pelvis eagerly.

I didn’t let myself pause to think, reaching down. Wrapping my hand around him. He fed me an equally breathy pant as I firmly gripped his manhood. I started to sit up, half on my side, adjusting to allow myself better purchase while his hands still worked at my backside. I used the moment to explore his cock in my palm, sliding up and down its length, with the pale tuft of wiry hair at its base and running partially up his abdomen. He hardened more at my touch, and I couldn’t help the little giddy glee in my stomach at the feeling.

I wasn’t sure if I was expecting it to be different from a human cock. A quick glance confirmed it was as green as the rest of him, though the head was darker. I thumbed the veins and ridges, running my palm appraisingly over it. Grier seemed eager to indulge my whims, and his pelvis jerked at my movement. I was surprised to find it was not smaller, as I would have expected it to be considering his proportions. Despite the goblin’s stature, I was pretty certain his appendage was very nearly the same size as mine. It certainly fit my palm similarly, and I enjoyed the familiarity of its shape. Feeling more and more confident as I rubbed at it firmly, confirming to myself this fact. Grier broke back from my mouth to lightly nip at my lip with his sharp teeth, seeming unable to fully handle the pleasure and desperate for an outlet.

He quivered as I continued to pump my palm up and down his shaft. I moved my other hand from the base of his skull to massage at his shoulders. He tucked his face against my neck, panting against me. Palming my ass and drifting his fingers ever closer to my anus. I encouraged him by picking up my pace, and felt him bite at my throat with a soft groan. He murmured something I didn’t understand, and suddenly his fingertips felt moist and tingly as he slid them in and around my hole.

“I want to know what it feels like to be inside you, Nikostratus.” He purred against my skin, and I quivered with anticipation. Gasping softly as he worked his fingers deeper. Carefully massaging and stretching me out.

I gripped him even more firmly now, rolling my hand down the length of his shaft, slowly pushing back his skin to fully expose his sensitive head to the night air. He groaned again, and I delighted in the feeling of the vibration of it at my throat. Whatever magic he had placed on his fingers was soothing and cool, and I felt myself relax at his touch.

His hands came around, pushing me down with his palms at my shoulders. I didn’t object, falling back willingly. Feeling my legs shaking with my growing anticipation. He coaxed me onto my stomach, and rolled his hands back and forth over my cheeks a few times. I felt his cock slide between them, and heard his breath hitch as he rubbed it there for a moment. Then aligned himself properly. I didn’t dare try to look over my shoulder at him, my face hot, my breath catching. I tried not to flinch as I felt his head graze the ring between my cheeks, but couldn’t help the shiver of excitement. His preparations allowed him to push easily inside me, though he did so slowly. Relishing each tantalizing inch. I curled my fingers into the blankets, my mouth dropping open as his head ground slowly against a particularly sensitive spot. He moved until he had buried himself to his pelvis, and bent slowly over me. His breath splashed against my spine, and I felt him carefully roll his hips.

I closed my eyes, letting loose something halfway between a moan and a gasp. It felt strange, but not unpleasant. He rolled again experimentally, then I felt him shudder against me. He bent further, curling over my ass and resting himself on his elbows. Until he could lap at the sweat now slowly dripping down my spine. I quivered at that, lost in a fresh wave of pleasure as he ground and rocked into me again. And again. His mouth came to my skin as he moved, and I could feel his breath panting against my sweat slicked shoulders. He alternated between kissing and licking, but as his pace picked up, I felt his teeth prick my skin in between groans pressed into my flesh.

I relished the sound of his hips smacking against my fleshy bottom. I enjoyed the feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside me. He moved gently at first, but gradually picked up speed and force as his excitement grew and my sounds spurred him on. Before long, he released a string of goblinese. I didn’t have to understand it at all to know it was probably not in any way ‘proper’ or ‘polished’ speech. It made my heartbeat even more erratic, and his thrusts seemed to match it. I felt him shudder again, and stifled a moan with my face buried in the blankets.

Suddenly, he jerked and spasmed, and a small part of me imagined I could feel him pulsing inside me as he reached his own climax. Logically I knew whatever magic he had used to relax my ring would likely prevent that, but I preferred to still imagine I could.

The goblin dropped onto my back with a hefty gasp, his smaller body quivering. My own body alternated between melting into a semi-solid state and tensing into a shiver. Each panting breath I drew, I could feel his weight rise and fall along with it. Our heat melded together, until I wasn’t entirely sure where his body ended and mine began... Eventually, he planted a final kiss between my shoulder blades, and slid off my back with a soft thump.

I found a bit of solidity to roll onto my side a few breaths later, and jumped slightly as Grier practically launched himself into my chest. I would have laughed at that, had I any semblance of where my lungs were at that moment. Instead, I sluggishly draped my arms around him, feeling his pleased sigh against my sternum as I did.

When several long minutes had passed without sound, I started to crane my neck down to check if the King was even still awake. I was certain he must be unconscious; he would never have been this quiet otherwise. Though over the last few weeks I had found there were nights when he talked even in his sleep! A pair of languid, hooded red eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I raised an eyebrow. I had fully expected when we got to this… ‘moment’, he would be full of teasing, boisterous words. Perhaps some musing on our varying physicality, or a comment on some quality of my body. Leaving me flustered, stammering, and proficiently bothered. His mouth twitched at the corners, but I was surprised to find him continuing his uncharacteristic silent streak.

As the heat and rush of excitement started to fade from my body, I found my anxiety waiting. Perhaps he had been disappointed? Or found my performance lacking in comparison to his other partners? Had he overexerted himself? A pang of guilt hit me hard in the chest. I shouldn’t have let it go so far. I had been too caught up in the desire, and turned selfish. He was still recovering; it had only been a month after all. I fretted over this, feeling my body stiffen around him.

Suddenly, Grier chuckled, and his lips pressed lightly to the hollow of my neck. “Over thinking things, are you?” He mumbled, as if his lips weren’t able to move properly to form the words.

I shifted nervously. “I-is it that obvious?”

Another soft laugh, and he snuggled deeper into me. But he didn’t answer right away, breathing another sigh into me. My heart skipped about in my chest, bouncing around the walls of my ribcage. His hand came up, sluggishly smoothing against my skin, rubbing the side of my neck and down my shoulder. I tried to take comfort in that, adjusting my suddenly oversized tongue in my mouth. Still, I lay stiff as a board beside him, and after a little while he brought his lips back to the same spot at the base of my neck.

“I’m not much of a talker.” He fumbled by way of explanation, his words slurred and slow.

That did make me laugh out loud. “Since when??”

He hummed a soft, amused note, and I felt his eyelashes brush against my skin as they fluttered. “After sex, I mean.”

Instantly my face flushed at the word. “A-ah,” I stammered, then shifted a little. “I-I… I didn’t know th-that.”

I could almost sense his languid grin, and he pressed his lips to my hot skin again. Then once more, though softer. His body relaxed, and he buried his face against me. His warm breath spinning down my sternum to be trapped between our entwined bodies. I swallowed once more, but adjusted, curling more completely around him. Cocooning him.

I rested my chin on the top of his head, and let a soft sigh escape as I forced my own body to relax. We lay quietly for a while. I knew he wasn’t asleep, as I felt his lashes run along my skin each time he blinked. I borrowed reassurance from the sensation, and my muscles loosened more. My eyes found the stars over our heads, and I watched them amid the reflection of the candlelight.

“I used to spend a lot of time staring up at the sky,” I breathed, “Wh-when I was younger… I found I could hide better in the dark, a-and no one ever thought to look for me outside for some reason…” I ran my hand along his spine, letting the words simply flow from me. Not really speaking to him, specifically. Just speaking... As I had when he was sick, and I had attempted to keep the habit up since. “I liked the night… Things were… quieter then… P-people didn’t bother me as much…” I considered the stars I could see from my position tucked against him. “We had a small collection of books on the constellations… I think I memorized most of them, I read them so much… I-I liked to… to read. Whenever I could manage to, I would go to the castle library…” My hand skimmed up to play with the long strands of his hair spilling over his back. “There was this… one spot… It was, ah… it was where the walkway of the second level stopped short… But there was just a little gap before the top of the next pillar and… a-and I found that I could s-step from the walkway to the pillar, then around to the next… then in the corner, one of the bookshelves was shorter to let in the light from the window…” I turned my head, burying my nose in his silky soft hair. Breathing in his spicy sweet scent. I knew now he liked to burn sage and myrrh in his rooms. He found the scents calming... “I would sit on top of that shelf for hours… No one could ever find me… I had a pillow set up there, and I would leave my favorite books…”

His soft chuckle vibrated against my chest. “I see Morgana wasn’t the only adventurous royal.” He murmured into my skin.

My lips twitched at the corners. “... I-I’m mostly of the literary sort… I would go there when I’d had enough of socializing and crowds. After all the galas, and balls and… ” I hesitated, my hand pausing with the long strands of his hair twirled around my fingers. Suddenly reminded of another such impending event. “I-I… I don’t want a big wedding…” I confessed suddenly, wincing.

Grier shifted, seeming to come to life at my words. I stiffened, worrying he would deign to leave my side if he was upset enough. I wasn’t sure what I would do if he did, and felt my heart ache with the fear. I felt his hand, previously forgotten in the knoll of my neck, slide over my muscles. Down my pectorals, then back up. His kiss was soft against me, and I shivered at it.

“Alright.” He agreed readily.

I blinked in surprise. “... Y-you… you don’t mind?” I felt him shake his head against me, and my fingers in his hair tightened. “I-I thought you wanted… I thought you would want a big… a-a very big ceremony, especially now that-”

“I’ve told you this before.” He interrupted me. His hand lingered at my throat, his thumb following the lump as I swallowed. “I don’t know why you never seem to believe me. I want you to be happy. That’s all I want.”

“... Even if it wasn’t with you?”

The goblin leaned in to nip at my soft flesh with his teeth at my tempered teasing. “Alright.” He amended. “I want you to be happy with me. But... if you couldn’t be-”

I shook my head, wrapping him up in my arms and pulling him close. “I-it doesn’t matter.” I told him in denial of that possibility as he slowly wound his hand to my back. Entangling himself around me. “I don’t… I-I don’t think I could… I don’t think I could be...h-happy… without you.” He nuzzled into the side of my neck, until I could feel his breath in my ear, and I took courage from that. “I-I don’t think I’ve… I’ve ever been…” I dropped off, then shook my head again. “N-not like this…”

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that…” He breathed, a happy relief in his voice. Then he paused, drawing small circles with his fingertips on my back. “I’ve been... obsessed with you… Ever since I first learned of you three years ago.” He confessed quietly, and I tried not to stiffen with his words. “I thought it was just some… strange fancy. One that would go away with time.” He smoothed his palm over my shoulders. “After I saw you… I just… always felt like something was missing. Though I couldn’t tell what it was… I certainly never put it together with you specifically.” He sighed. “Yet it was constantly driving me. Though I didn’t know it. It drove me to halt hostilities. Then to seek out the peace… and then… that drove you to me… and…”

He leaned back, pulling himself free from my embrace. I turned, looking down at him as his hands came about to cup my face. His long thumbs ran along my cheeks under my eyes, as his own seemed to study every pore. Our breath intermingled in what was left of the air between us, and electricity snapped in its wake. Slowly he stretched up, kissing me softly, gently. As if he were in a pleasant dream, and longed to do everything in his power to linger in it.

“And then I saw you again…” He murmured once he had finally leaned back. “I saw you in my castle, standing before me. Close enough to touch… and everything just… clicked. Everything became so obvious.”

“W-was it really so easy for you?”

“No.” He admitted. “I wasn’t lying back then, when I said you surprised me. I really never thought I would like you. I had never met a human before that I had found I could do much more than tolerate.” His head cocked to the side. “But I thought it would be... interesting, at least. And…” He grinned. “You are very handsome.”

My cheeks grew hot and I tried to flick my gaze to the side. He tightened his grip, tricking me into looking back at him in surprise. Just in time for him to kiss me again. I hummed a sigh against his mouth, my eyes fluttering.

“You are very handsome,” He declared, his voice soft, “And charming, and selfless, and sweet.” He kissed me again. “And I will keep telling you this until you believe me.” A final kiss, soft and tender upon my lips. “Now… how about that drink, hmm?”

The corners of my mouth twitched again as he untucked himself from against me and sat up. The goblin reached over, pulling the tray closer. There was a covered plate beside it I hadn’t noticed before, and felt a slight frown slip across my features as I considered it. Grier poured out a small dollop of brandy into each glass as I slowly sat up too. Pulling the loose end of a blanket modestly across my lap.

“What’s under there?” I asked, curious despite myself.

His grin grew, and he passed me a glass before using his now free hand to toss the silver cover off to the side with an unceremonious clatter. I jumped slightly at the sound, but didn’t have time to linger on it as the King proffered the now revealed plate of small misshapen yellow squares practically right under my nose. I raised an eyebrow at him, but carefully plucked one, hesitantly bringing it up for a precursory sniff. My eyes widened with delight as I recognized it, and I snapped up the entire treat in one quick bite. Letting the sweet but tart flavor roll over my tongue with a soft sigh.

Grier laughed, equally delighted, and picked up another after returning the plate to the tray. I met his eyes, suddenly a little embarrassed by my eagerness, my chewing slowing. But he held the fresh lemon cookie out to me, obviously pleased with the same behavior that embarrassed me. My lips twitched and I leaned in to take it directly from between his fingers with my mouth in a surprisingly bold whim. Which only made the delighted smile of his grow even more. Before I could pull completely away, he caught the back of my neck with one hand and stole a lemony kiss. I couldn’t help my own little chuckle deep in my throat and found myself a little surprised by it.

I washed the mouthful down with a sip of the brandy, watching him take one for himself and having an experimental nibble of it. “...You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, shooting me a coy look out the corner of his eye. “I do aim to please…. Is it everything you wanted for this night?” He scooched closer as I finished the last of the small serving of brandy in my glass. Climbing into my lap once I placed it to the side. “What else does your heart desire? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

I adjusted myself nervously, my heart skittering about in my chest as his warm skin brushed against mine. “I-I… What about you?” I mumbled shyly. “Surely you must-”

“I have everything I want,” He interrupted, reaching up and catching my face between his palms, “I have the man I love. My whole world. Right here.” He pulled me down gently to kiss me for several breaths. “So tell me, my sweet Prince, what do you want?”

I hesitated, my blush rising to my cheeks. He brushed it aside with his palms, and I peeked at him through my dark lashes. “I-I… I want… I just... want you…” I told him softly. “Just you…” I glanced to the side, taking a small breath, trying to let the words trapped in my chest flow out unchecked. “I-I want… I want to… to wake up next to you every morning, and I want to fall asleep with you every night...” I paused, peeking at him again, but when he didn’t interrupt, I added “...And I am fully aware that we will never wake up at the same time…” He laughed softly at that. Encouraged, I continued on, letting everything pour out in a rush. “I-I want… I want to see what ridiculous outfit you wear everyday, and I want to see you panic when your hair starts to turn white.” I reached up, thumbing his cheek. “I want to see what happens to green skin if you stay out in the sun too long, and I want to rule alongside you a-and leave this Kingdom to our children... I want kids with you… I want lots of kids with you... and I want to see you playing with all of them in the gardens. I want… I-I want to…” I swallowed hard, stammering and fumbling for the words momentarily. “I… I want to love you for the rest of our lives, Grier... and I want those lives to be very, very long…”

His hands slowly slid until he had fully wrapped his arms around me, surrounding me with his spicy sweet scent. Then he kissed me so deeply I thought perhaps the stars in the heavens had always been just a faded copy of the universe that flashed behind my eyes at that moment. The warmth, that lovely, wonderful warmth, started in my chest, and pulsed through me with each beat of my heart. Reaching out to every inch and molecule of my being. Until I couldn’t even remember what it was like to live and breathe without it. I didn’t even feel him lean back, but then suddenly his voice, bathed in tenderness, filled my ears. Blowing air across the smoldering coals burning hot in my chest until my whole body tingled with emotion.

“I see we are a perfect match then, my young Prince.”

...

The End...

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

alpha - drew m / roman r. [m]

Note:

Okay, so I’ve seen a few of these floating around now and then and I know that as a reader, I personally enjoyed the experience. And that little showdown between Roman and Drew really... Got to me and lives in my head rent free. My original idea for this was so much different than what this is going to shape up to be, but honestly, I feel like it works better this way. As much as I dislike even thinking Randy Orton’s name. Adding that particular variable into the mix made this a lot smoother than my original idea.

I’m actually really excited about this. It’s a choose your own smutty ending. I think the first person I saw trying this was @glowrioustrash​ and it was last year, for Halloween, I think? I enjoyed reading that, so I kinda wanted to try my own hand at it then. I just never got around to it. I even asked them if it was okay if I did it, back then, I think? Anyway... Last night’s Smackdown just gave me ample inspo to FINALLY get off my ass and try it, and make it a part of my year-long smut one shot series. Bet ya’ll thought I completely forgot about those, huh? Well I didn’t. So... here we are.

This part is the beginning to both of the smutty parts I’m going to write for this, so it’ll be linked on either post and either post will be linked here, once I have them all done and posted on the blog.

LIFE EDIT: Eventually, loves... I’ll get around to posting the smutty conclusions to both men. When I do, those will be linked to this post.

Enjoy this teaser, hopefully?

HUGE SHOUTOUTS TO : @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure and @schizoauthoress​ (your suggestions and that helpful input at the end, ahhh.. i owe you my life)  as well as @wardl0w because I have probably bugged the living hell out of all three of them as I attempted this and they were seriously huge helps to me with this.

Characters / Pairings:

Drew McIntyre / Female!omega reader - version 1, coming soon

Roman Reigns / Female!omega reader - version 2, coming soon

Warnings:

This is an attempt at me, writing alpha/omega again. So there will be knotting, mate bite marks, etc. In addition to that, there will be smut in the second part of these, whichever man you guys choose. There’s also hints of unwanted confrontation between Orton and Reader to start this off with and it gets... handsy, ewwww. But I had to have a way to work in both guys and make it work, so.. here we are. There’s also gonna be swearing. If I need to issue any other warnings those will be on the follow up posts.

Tagging:

@kyleoreillysknee​ @rampagewriting​ @writertoo18​ @thatnerdwriter​ @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​ @chasingeverybreakingwave​ @waywardwrestlewritingwaif​ @sassymox​ @champbucks​ @hungmanhorsecarriage​ @wardl0w​ @ryantaylorgirl​ @dilfmoxley​ @hotyeehawman​ @darbysallin​ @gabbynorth98​ @bec0m​

@linziland13​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​ 

Other Stuff:

[ about my writing - masterlist - tag list doc ]

[ Roman ] or [ Drew ]

The scent was absolutely intoxicating. So understandably, when it filled my nose for the fourth time that night, I found myself standing. Making my way out into the hallway. Shoving people out of my way. Now, I wasn’t running or anything, because my grandma always told me it’s better to be chased than do the chasing but… I was power-walking.

And, as per usual, not paying a lick of attention to where I was going or my surroundings. I was solely focused on this mysterious scent because deep down inside, I knew exactly where it was going to lead me and damn it, I might put up one hell of a show about being independent, but heat cycles are hell and yeah, maybe I get lonely as of late. Maybe I’ve been longing to find my Alpha. Maybe I want the comfort of knowing that I’m not doomed to be forever alone and I do have a mate out there, somewhere...

It hit me then, around the same time that my thighs absolutely flooded with slick and I started to feel all woozy. I hadn’t taken suppressants. In fact, I had somehow managed to completely forget about my heat cycle’s speedy approach.

I mean, between moving and getting called up to the main roster, life has been a whirlwind for me lately. And tonight I hadn’t taken them before I came to the arena because I was excited. Tonight was my first night on the main roster. And in the excitement of that, I’d forgotten my suppressants… again.

To be fair, I haven’t ever really adhered to taking them steadily to begin with, so there you go...I never really had anyone constantly riding me to do so growing up. I was mostly left to my own devices, free to do what I wanted and make my own choices. So, yeah, this isn’t my first rodeo with a surprise heat cycle.

I shoved all the thoughts out of my noisy mind, pausing my walk to attempt focusing. Centering myself so that I could really fix on the scent and the direction it came from. And in my distraction, that gave Orton the perfect opportunity to slither up and corner me before I even had a chance to properly respond.

“Doll.”

“I have a name, you prick.” I rolled my eyes as I shrank away, nose wrinkling at the oversaturation of his scent as it invaded my nose and momentarily drowned out that heavenly aroma I’d been attempting to follow before I got distracted like a dumb bitch.

He chuckled, putting himself closer to me. Leaning down a little. And the audacity of this fucking man, he even had the nerve to reach up and move my hair away from my neck, his nose burying there as a lewd growl rose up from the depths of his chest.

I shoved at him and cleared my throat. “I was kind of in a hurry, do you mind knocking it the fuck off, jackass? Go sniff someone else, ew.”

“C’mon now, hon… You know what’s happening to you. You know you need me.”

“Like I need a bullet wound to the head, Orton. Fuck off.” I tried to duck beneath his arm but his other hand caught on my hip, keeping me pinned between him and the wall. By now, the scent of him was so overpowering and gross that my stomach was lurching. My consolation thought as I began to panic a little and tried to think of a quick way out of this confrontation was that maybe if I just threw up on the asshole, he’d get away.

Somehow, I didn’t see that happening. Orton doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who picks up on cues, verbal or non-verbal. Likes to assert that dominance he fancies himself to have.

He chuckled again.

Then suddenly, the scent was back and it was overpowering his stench. ,, Thank God.” I thought to myself, daring to mutter the words under my breath. I found myself peering over Randy’s shoulder, waiting on whoever the intoxicating scent I’d been following originally to show themselves.

And when he stepped out behind Randy and into view… If I thought I was wet before, whew… I was absolutely flooded beyond all hope now. I swallowed hard, biting my lip, locking eyes with him. Randy seemed to realize that my attention was wandering and this of course, only made him up his game.

His hips brushed boldly against mine and I cringed, pretending to gag when I felt the way Orton strained at his trunks. At the moment, Randy was completely and blissfully unaware as to what fate awaited him if he were stupid enough to turn around and honestly?

I’m enough of a bitch that I was hell bent on not alerting Randy to it, either. Instead, I took a few shaky breaths and stared up at him defiantly. “Why do I need you, Orton? They make vibrators bigger than that fun sized Tootsie Roll I’ve heard you’re packing every day of the week. I don’t need you. Or anyone.”

I knew that part was a lie because as all this was going on, my body was in a literal frenzy at the sight of my Alpha. My skin was tight, I could barely breathe. I was doing good to think straight and form words, honestly. I was a split second away from being overwhelmed. Because thanks to my Alpha showing themselves, my heat cycle went from a mild annoyance to almost intolerable within a split second.

I needed to get away from Randy. I needed to get somewhere and calm down. But I wanted to stay exactly where I was, curious to see if my Alpha was here for the reason I’d ventured out of hair and makeup in the first place.

So far, all he was doing was standing there. Watching my little confrontation with Randy. The tension in his body quickly gave away his feelings on the matter, however. And that’s what kept me quiet. Allowed me to let Randy keep digging his own damn grave.

Because it amused me.

And I needed to know that my Alpha was actually a good Alpha. I needed to know he’d protect me, no matter what. I also needed to know that he knew when to fuck off and allow me to handle things on my own.

I wanted to test his boundaries too, if I’m being perfectly honest.

Randy bit his lip, staring down at me as if I were food and he was a starving man. He raised a hand and rubbed his chin in thought, eyes not leaving mine for a second. “Why do you need me? Well, it’s like this, doll. I want you. And you’re not in the mindset right now to turn down any Alpha who offers himself up, just goin off of that sweet little scent you’ve got yourself right now. Just drop the act, princess. You and I both know that if you don’t find an Alpha, things are going to get real messy back here. Real fast. And I don’t think you want that now, do you hon?”

,, what I want is for you to back the fuck away. Find a tube of toothpaste or some cologne or a shower, something… anything to rid yourself of the stench you’ve got yourself.” the thought came but I was treading carefully, so I kept it internal, choosing only to give a soft laugh and roll my eyes at Randy instead.

“You know exactly zilch about me and my ‘delicate state’, first of all. Secondly? I wouldn’t choose you for my Alpha if you were the last one on earth.” I managed to get the words out. I managed to keep my eyes off of my actual Alpha, who still stood by watching intently, fists clenched tight now.

When he gave a quiet growl and started to approach, the flood in my panties only got so much worse.

And naturally, Randy thought this meant that something he’d said was getting through and that I was just playing hard to get… He pressed me against him, a hand going to my cheek as he gave a smug grin and let his gaze settle on me thoughtfully. “I knew it.”

“Like I said, Randy, you really don’t have a single fucking clue.” I tried to squirm free from his grasp but the fever raging in my body and the overwhelming scent of my true Alpha as he grew angrier and angrier combined with the slightest panic I was feeling at being fucking cornered like an animal by Orton, those were all working against me and I couldn’t extract myself.

His answer was to smirk and chuckle again. “You realize I can scent you and I know exactly what’s on your mind right now, right?”

“Good, then you know I want to stab you in the eyeball with my stiletto. Or reach down, grab that little shrimp dick of yours and twist til it comes off in my hands?” I quipped, a sweet smirk on my face as I boldly met his gaze. When I picked up on him, slowly inching his face closer to mine, I swallowed hard. It felt as if my throat were closing up and it was quickly becoming clear to me that if I thought I had this under control, I really didn’t. Randy wasn’t going to stop or go away. And he wasn’t going to let me get away either.

Desperately, I found my gaze shifting over Randy’s shoulder. I locked eyes with my Alpha and mouthed, “Any day now?…” almost impatiently. I wanted Randy the entire fuck away from me. And I was really starting to realize that I couldn’t achieve that on my own. I was fully in over my head.

Typical of me, I’m afraid.

I have to admit, the fact that my Alpha had yet to actually do anything had me in an internal uproar. It had me thinking that maybe I’d gotten the wrong read on him when I watched an earlier promo in the night.

Before I had a chance to consider it fully, that my Alpha might not be a good guy either, two things happened. One, Randy’s hand left my cheek and his mouth closed in even more, rough lips almost about to brush mine and disgusting stench for a moment blocking out the scent of my Alpha. His hand settled on my hip and he was pulling me against him. 

I planted a hand firmly against his chest, palm down. “What the--?” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence because from behind Randy, my Alpha’s throat cleared.

Randy grumbled to himself, picking up on the presence of my Alpha. But it was too late.

My Alpha locked eyes with me and nodded, indicating that I needed to move now, while Randy was distracted, and trust me, I wasted absolutely no time doing that. I extracted myself from between Randy and the wall I’d had my back pressed against and not even a split second later, my Alpha’s fist went smashing into Randy’s face and he had him pinned against the wall, a forearm across his throat.

And I didn’t think, I just ran.

I ran until I was out in the parking garage and then I stopped, catching my breath. It passed through my mind that maybe I should go back inside and at least attempt to be there when the brawl taking place in the hallway was over, but honestly?

I needed to get myself together. To get calm. To process and catch my breath and try to puzzle everything out.

And yeah, maybe parts of me were curious. Wondering if my Alpha would seek me out, or whether the incident in the hallway was just him stepping in because I asked…

The door to the garage flew open a few feet away and I rose up slightly, eyes darting around. The scent of my Alpha filled my senses and I bit my lip, taking a few shaky breaths right as he started to call my name. I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came. His footsteps were getting closer and closer.

My heart was racing and his scent hung heavily in the air around us, making me dizzy as the heat took over in my body. He touched me, and almost the instant I felt his hand on my shoulder, I could feel my body cooling down. This wave of relief washed over me and all I could think was that if this is what his touch felt like, I’d absolutely love more of it.

I inhaled deep, preparing myself to turn around…

[ roman ] [ drew ]

[onyourzeus]

• stress-free | kwp

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: stress-free pairing: kim wonpil (of day6) & you (she/her pronouns) genre: FLUFF, college!au words: 3.4k

author’s note: @pirimiritiddy​ requested a fic about wonpil, and here it is. it went on for longer than i previously planned, buuuuut. i hope it’s still okay aaaa 

(this is the 1st time i’ve written something for wonpil so if i get his personality wrong, i do apologize. i am also a baby myday huhu)

this dot fic (bullet style) is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario that i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: dowoon (currently only 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

wonpil hates his schedule for this winter term 

who assigns a class that is only available at seven in the evening??

3 times a week

during THE WINTER

did he mention it’s a major lecture he’s required to take?? 

psychology of stress, more like

this class is giving him the kind of stress it is specifically warning its students about 

anyway, what can he say. he chose this major, there’s only 1 more term after this one and then finally: graduation

it’ll be fine, he’ll live

thank the heavens they didn’t need to attend the first two meetings, but some reading material was provided 

and was expected by the professor to have been read and reflected upon 

the class is really living up to its name because when wonpil opened the pdf 

it was 30 pages of tiny font sized sentences (for ants!) about the definition of stress and how it affects every part of the body yada yada yada

wonpil tried. he really tried 

that is to say he fell asleep on his desk while going over the same 20th page of the document 

if it weren’t for jae shaking him awake, he’d miss his first night class 

it would’ve been nice… if only the professor didn’t take attendance (something about being generous enough to make the first 2 classes “free,” so everyone has an obligation to come in for the remainder of the semester)

great, he’s stuck freezing his ass off just walking to the bus stop alone 

hopefully they turn the heater all the way up in the auditorium or else

the thousands spent in tuition would have literally been for nothing

overdramatic wonpil, can you blame him 

he thinks about reading the remaining 10 pages on the bus, even if he knows nothing of value will be absorbed

he wants to tries anyway, he does feel a little bit refreshed from that impromptu nap 

the bus has arrived, and it’s packed as usual; a lot of the students riding the shuttle are just yet to take off in the following stops

wonpil squeezes his way inside, 30 pages of stress psychology research gripped in both hands 

“excuse me, sorry,” wonpil mumbles, eyeing for a spot to sit to make him comfortable 

because once all the people standing up leave, it’s usually a race for the exit 

he’ll never understand college students

finally, he sees an empty seat way in the back. there was a girl on one end and two other students who seem to be ready to get off on the right side

wonpil doesn’t mind sitting next to someone, but once those 2 are gone he’ll just scoot over to give the girl on the left some privacy 

she seems very much in deep sleep anyway, wonpil wonders if her stop is coming or she’s riding to go to campus? 

wonpil doesn’t have time to think about other people, it causes him unnecessary stress

once sat down, his eyes focus on the last page he left off of 

the words register as gibberish in his brain, and with the bus moving so much it makes it even more difficult to follow along the paragraphs

wonpil takes in a deep breath, holds it in, and sighs very heavily 

his patience is usually the best out of his friends, but this class is turning more and more into the psychology of how to get you stressed tf out instead 

the bus nears its next stop, and the two people on his side stand up to leave, yes he can breathe normal air

however

hold on

his shoulder feels heavy 

turning his head slightly, for some reason once the bus had stopped its engine the girl’s head had flipped over to lean against wonpil’s shoulder instead 

oh no oh no oh no 

his shoulders suddenly freeze, as if blasted with a ray gun filled with ice 

it’s heavy and he can’t move, it’s numb and this girl’s hair is splayed all over his his sweater 

and she

she smells of coffee, and wonpil inhales it in

it’s not foul or anything, but it’s definitely exuding notes of espresso bean and freshly roasted coffee 

it makes wonpil feel a little more awake 

but he still can’t move his shoulders, and suddenly he’s panicking because the bus started moving again and even though capacity has lessened by 80%

someone decided to sit on the other end of the row he’s at

so if he even attempts to move, he’ll still be seated next to someone 

wonpil grumbles, lower lip jutting forward

something shifts

and he realizes he shook his shoulders a little bit with his frustration

“ah…” he exclaims inaudibly, panicking at the possibility that he had woken her up from her nap

wonpil tenses up, shoulders stiff and eyes peering at his side to see what she’s up to

she lifts her head just a few inches off of wonpil’s shoulder, and for a moment he’s relieved that maybe she realizes what’s going on

but wonpil only hears a soft yawn coming from her, and she returns to using his very rigid shoulder as her pillow during this bus ride

let’s just say that the next thirteen minutes was more stress-inducing than wonpil wanted it to be

right when the bus reaches the final stop (main campus), wonpil exerts any and all efforts he has to shake his shoulder, up and down, enough to elicit an awake response from this stranger 

the moment he feels her let up, wonpil dashes through that bus door like there’s no tomorrow

he is greeted with the coldest wind hitting his face, and his shoulder feeling numb from all the.. pillow roleplaying it did, if you will 

wonpil feels bad, borderline guilty for leaving her like that— what if she’s asleep until now?? he can almost hear soft snores from her end for a minute there, too, and it took so much of wonpil to resist chuckling at it while in panic mode simultaneously

suffice to say, he was not able to read the rest of the document

in wonpil’s defense, he had encountered it first hand — how stress overcomes one’s body and mind 

he forces himself to focus on what’s ahead, as boring as it sounds

he enters the lecture hall with a few minutes so spare, deciding to sit in the back

the projector screens are big and wonpil is not about to take his chances of getting called on today

luckily enough, he finds a row with visibly no other student sitting around the area 

shoulder feeling more alive, he comes back to his senses as well 

he takes off his outer sweater as it had become toastier inside. he still had a couple layers beneath his clothes

as the professor starts talking, wonpil finds himself yawning a few times

he doesn’t know if the video playing on screen is boring him or the girl in the bus affected his sleepiness

suddenly he remembers the smell of coffee, and how that’d sound real good right about now 

he slaps both of his cheeks lightly, trying to take him back in the zone of at least writing down important notes 

he’s on the fifth bullet point of his note-taking when the door behind him opens abruptly

it wasn’t loud or disrupting to the whole class, virtually no one even batted an eye

but thats because they’re far from the door

and wonpil is literally ten feet away, so when he feels the cold suddenly hit his back he had to know the source of the sudden hit in temperature

the class hadn’t been going on for less than an hour, and there have been students coming in on the other end of the auditorium

so wonpil isn’t that surprised that another student has just arrived 

he caught a glimpse of her hair, but that’s about it as wonpil goes back to his tedious notes 

until the very same person scoots herself in wonpil’s row

he huffs under his breath, the illusion of some privacy now shattered 

with a polite (semi-forced) smile, wonpil turns to the side to greet his classmate

again, wonpil becomes frozen in spot 

kind of like when you feel a magnetic pull somewhere, you follow it

and then suddenly you see it from afar, not believing your eyes if it’s actually real; if it’s actually there

in wonpil’s case, he’s one seat away from her

recognizing the flow of her hair, but more importantly

that distinct scent of coffee beans from her clothes 

this time, wonpil has a clear look on her face and he’s… speechless 

his polite smile has turned into a look of awe, eyes glued towards her 

she senses his gaze, turns to him and quickly bows down as a polite greeting 

“sorry, but has the class been going on for a while?” 

she speaks 

“oh, um, what— what?” 

“oh,” she looks confused, but rephrases her question, “what time did the class start? i had a hard time finding this lecture hall.” 

she’s talking to him, not just leaning her head on his shoulder

“seven” 

was all wonpil could say 

“it started at 7? cool, i’m not that late then!” she cheers, grinning shyly. wonpil watches the way she puts a strand of hair tucked beneath her ear. she’s pulling out her laptop from her bag when she notices a pair of wide eyes still on her person

“is… is this seat taken?” she asks, and wonpil hasn’t even taken in the fact that this is the same person from the bus 

“yes” 

tongue-tied wonpil strikes again, blinking back his own obliviousness to her question

“i mean— no, now it is, by you. you’re sitting there, um, i— feel free to sit wherever you want”

he’s scrambling for his words, flustered cheeks heating up amidst the warmth of the room

she just nods her head in understanding, and wonpil finally realizes he’s been staring at her direction for longer than he should have

“STRESS” 

the professor verbalized into her mic which causes wonpil to look to the front all of a sudden 

right, right. he’s at a lecture. what’s gotten him so fidgety and embarrassed and now all that he’s pretending to type on his google doc is

sdfjfjdfhshllsghgjghsh

just so he looks busy next to the girl who fell asleep on him on the bus

was there any point in preoccupying his mind with thoughts of her, and her head resting on him? no it’s stupid, wonpil knows this. 

people do it all the time, by accident, due to exhaustion, they don’t mean a thing by it

but wonpil is curious, and this is going to kill him. for sure

so he peeks at her again, and like a normal, decent student that she is (compared to wonpil at this point let’s be real) her hands are busy hand writing whatever the professor was saying

meanwhile, wonpil continues to sdfjskgnglddfjs his way to a passing B in this class

even in this large, spacious lecture hall he can still take in her scent

maybe it’s a new perfume that’s up and coming, that’s why it smells so strongly on her

oh! he can ask that? hey, do you mind sharing what line of perfume you’re using? it smells really good

it sounds like a common question, right? i mean if you wear strong fragrances you’re bound to be asked a question about it

he’s about to ask, he really was so ready to ask, what was he gonna lose? his dignity? 

over a simple, inquisitive question? 

“and now before we go on a twenty minute break, it’s time to introduce yourself to the person sitting close to you”

...

why do college professors have to do this? 

wonpil bites his lip, at this point in time he’s a senior who’s fed up with ice breakers like this. if it were any other person sitting next to him, in front of him, behind him— he would just go with his usual introduction

“hi i’m kim wonpil, studying psychology and i graduate in the spring. i’m taking this class for a major requirement” 

then go about his merry way.

but with her? she and him have history

sort of, and it’s the kind of history that is recent and wonpil is unsure if she is even aware of the weird string of fate-like connection they have 

or, wonpil, hear your consciousness out

it’s not a big deal, and in the scenario she doesn’t remember she fell asleep on the bus on another person

then you can just say hi like usual, and cut the string of fate there and then

(but does wonpil really want that?)

“hi”

oh crap she’s started it 

wonpil braces himself for whatever outcome this interaction comes out to. he’ll let her speak, and tailor his response from there

“i’m sorry, this might be really weird but that’s your sweater, right?” 

so she didn’t give her name, her major, anything substantial about herself but instead shoots wonpil a question

pointing at the sweater that’s draped on the seat in front of wonpil

wonpil doesn’t even check to look. he gulps, nods his head and squeaks, “yeah… why?” 

something in her eyes flash by, almost like a glint of recognition

she puts a hand on her mouth, and wonpil can make out the faintest shade of pink blushing its way to her ears

it’s kinda cute

“did someone happen to… fall asleep on you on the bus coming to campus today?” 

“... yes?” 

“that was me” she buries her face even further into her hands, almost lowering down to the chair 

wonpil thought she was gonna fall for some reason so he had to remedy the situation somewhat

“i.. i, um, did you have a good nap?” 

great comeback 

wonpil was so ready to leave the auditorium and never come back after the break

but he hears her giggle, and slowly come out of her shyness

and it’s a sweet sight, to finally see the way her cheeks look full of embarrassed laughter

as she twirls around a length of hair nervously

and taps the pen on the surface of her desk repeatedly 

it was endearing, and wonpil forgets about why he was panicking in the first place 

she then explains that she had work the whole day, and only had an hour to rest up before going to this 7pm class

wonpil listens intently, watching her mannerisms and the lilt in her voice when she continues to apologize for falling asleep on him without realizing it

“i’m not usually a deep sleeper, but work was exceptionally tiring today and i just needed at least a bit of shut eye” wonpil nods understandingly, almost worried about her health

“where do you work if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“at the coffee shop a few blocks away from campus,” she answers, head tilting to the side “i’m still wearing my uniform for it… is it too obvious?”

wonpil didn’t even realize her black long sleeves was a cafe uniform

but it did explain her strong coffee smell 

“something like that,” wonpil decided to say, curling his lips upward, feeling content and relieved at the turnout of events 

for the 20 minute break, wonpil thought they’d reconcile over what transpired between them and mind their own business soon enough— even if he thinks it’s hard to do that now knowing something about her

which intrigues wonpil 

and, quite frankly, he’d like to talk to her more

just so he has an excuse to watch her emotions paint her face beautifully

but there was a pause right after their short conversation 

and in real Awkward Wonpil Fashion, he shows her the 30 page reading material, in all of its flimsy glory and starts asking questions about it

“so uh did you read the whole thing? i thought it was interesting up until the part that i dozed off” 

and wonpil got his wish; he sees her eyes shine in surprise at his sudden attempt of an intellectual discussion

but she doesn’t deter him away

and actually, she’s read the whole damn thing. and wonpil was beyond amazed at the level of detail she explains to him about the parts he didn’t understand

he actually starts typing real notes while she was talking

this made her laugh in between her explanations, and wonpil didn’t understand what was so funny about

the fight or flight response

“it’s just. the way you’re typing this down so seriously, i’m sure the prof can explain it better”

wonpil shakes his head no, shakes it so much it hurt his temples

she laughs again, and he likes hearing that sound

“do you want to see what i’ve typed the past hour and a half of this class?’

“bet :p”

“actually nevermind” flashbacks of dsfkjsdjffdslkg ring true in wonpil’s mind as he quickly backspaces the nonsense in his notes

and the conversation continues from more psychology talks, to figuring out they’re in the same major but she’s a recent transfer student from last year 

and had been juggling work and school since the start of her senior year

wonpil wonders why he hasn’t seen her in the coffee shop yet

he would have done a double take the first time meeting her there for sure

“oh you’re too kind,” she suddenly replies??? 

wonpil had said his thoughts out loud 

without further embarrassing him, she says that she had only started working there since it’s more convenient for her; wonpil feels grateful she doesn’t dwell on the compliment any longer

alas, the break finishes and the droll of the professor’s voice reverberates throughout the room

this time, though, wonpil definitely feels more alert (awake enthusiastic) as the two of them exchange little comments about the class material

and before you know it, class is over and wonpil is an excited bunny. since they’re by the door they got to leave before everyone else

wonpil thinks it’s time to part ways… but this time they’re not fully strangers at all. they’re taking the same class, same major, they even know each other’s name. 

surely this isn’t the last time, right?

“hey, wonpil…” he didn’t even realize that they have started walking towards the bus stop together

“hm?”

“i think i owe you one,” she starts, stopping her tracks to face him. eyebrows up in hesitation, wonpil waits for her to finish

“you know, for taking over your personal space for my own comfort”

“oh that? haha that’s nothing :)” honestly if wonpil can do it again he’d volunteer in a heartbeat

“no, really. let me make it up to you. coffee? on me? i make a mean cappuccino” she winks 

it strikes through wonpil’s heart 

no need for resuscitation.. yet

“or a matcha latte? whatever you’d like it’ll be on me”

“anything!” wonpil exclaims, suddenly realizing the offer being given to him, the excitement bubbling up inside him again. “i mean, anything you’d like to have me try. surprise me,” he corrects himself

that manages to have her grin widely, eyes twinkling in excitement similar to wonpil’s and he thinks

they can get along

they can get to know each other better this way 

“would you be up to go for one now?” 

“oh— oh! now?” 

“yeah, that way none of us takes the risk of falling asleep back on the bus hehe” 

well, he really wouldn’t mind that happening a second time

“really now, wonpil?”

andddd he exposed himself again

it’s fine, she tugs his hand slightly to lead him to the bus that has arrived and wonpil follows in a daze

it’s a little full, so they have no other choice but to stand and hold onto the railings above

“guess no falling asleep here…” she teases, and now wonpil can’t use his hands to hide his blushing face

but the feeling of her just close by 

and the scent of coffee lingering in the air

in between them

just inches away from each other

it’ll do for now

[katsukis-sad-angel]

"get to know me uncomfortably well" 1-100 minus whatever questions you dont want to answer :D

ahem (original post)

1. What is your middle name? Therese Hildegard (yes i have two)

2. How old are you? 19

3. When is your birthday? May 22

4. What is your zodiac sign? The most introverted Gemini you can find

5. What is your favorite color? Purple

6. What’s your lucky number? 18

7. Do you have any pets? 2 beautiful rabbits named Asphodel and Genisys

8. Where are you from? NE Ohio

9. How tall are you? just about 5′5″

10. What shoe size are you? *sniffle* size 10, but my doc martins are size 11

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 4

12. What was your last dream about? all i remember is the guy i like holding out his arms to me for a hug, but before i could jump into his arms i woke up :(

13. What talents do you have? I’m a percussionist so I hit things to make pretty sounds and i guess i’m pretty good at writing 

14. Are you psychic in any way? no, why?

15. Favorite song? Fiending by Broken Transmitter and Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy at the moment

16. Favorite movie? ummmm gotta be big hero 6

17. Who would be your ideal partner? tall, dark, and handsome, a little muscular, not too much tho, at least a little taller than me who gives good hugs

18. Do you want children? yes

19. Do you want a church wedding? yes

20. Are you religious? yes

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? i had a seizure when i was 4. haven’t been there since

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? i mean i’ve broken laws but i’ve never been caught

23. Have you ever met any celebrities? CLIFFORD CHAPIN!!!!! MY LORD AND SAVIOR!!!

24. Baths or showers? both, first a bath to relax and then shower to actually get clean

25. What color socks are you wearing? none

26. Have you ever been famous? would you call 800+ followers famous?

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?  absolutely not

28. What type of music do you like? rock, the occasional j-pop, songs with a lot of bass i guess

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? HAH no

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2

31. What position do you usually sleep in? i fall asleep staring at the ceiling and wake up on my face

32. How big is your house? large enough for 6 kids, 2 parents, 2 rabbits, and the ghosts of 2 cats and 2 dogs 

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? something dad makes or a parfait from school

34. Have you ever fired a gun? nope

35. Have you ever tried archery? yep

36. Favorite clean word? rats

37. Favorite swear word? piss baby

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? in all 19 years of my existence, i have never once pulled an all-nighter. my body will just shut off, it doesn’t matter how much caffeine i drink

39. Do you have any scars? me and my curling iron have a love-hate relationship if you will

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? lmao

41. Are you a good liar? it depends, but usually yes

42. Are you a good judge of character? no. i’m way too trusting and give everyone the benefit of the doubt even when SEVERAL people tell me so and so is a bad person and i usually end up getting hurt because of it aha

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? i can talk like gordon ramsay if requested

44. Do you have a strong accent? i live in ohio. no.

45. What is your favorite accent? gordon ramsay

46. What is your personality type? an introvert who will fight you if provoked

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? something stupidly overpriced from hot topic probably

48. Can you curl your tongue? yes

49. Are you an innie or an outie? innie

50. Left or right handed? right handed

51. Are you scared of spiders? no but if i see one i will smack it with a shoe

52. Favorite food? pork ribs

53. Favorite foreign food? chinese food

54. Are you a clean or messy person? clean

55. Most used phrase? “so... there’s this guy...”  

56. Most used word? “rats” as a derogatory term or otherwise

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 30 minutes max

58. Do you have much of an ego? i try not to

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? bite. i dont want something in my mouth for that long

60. Do you talk to yourself? all the time

61. Do you sing to yourself? yes

62. Are you a good singer? i mean, i’m not necessarily bad

63. Biggest Fear? people that are upset with me and i don’t know why, hospitals, blood and other bodily fluids, dead things

64. Are you a gossip? yes

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? i watch anime, fool

66. Do you like long or short hair? on my men, as long as it’s not super long and nasty we’re good... women? i don’t care

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? yes. i have every animaniacs song memorized so, not to flex, but i can name all 50 states AND their capitals in SONG form

68. Favorite school subject? history

69. Extrovert or Introvert? introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? no but it sounds fun

71. What makes you nervous? not knowing where i am, deadlines, a teacher saying “i’m letting you form your own groups for a project this time and no you can’t work by yourself” 

72. Are you scared of the dark?  yes

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? as nicely as possible

74. Are you ticklish? yes

75. Have you ever started a rumor? nothing major but yes

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? no

77. Have you ever drank underage? my dad let me suck on his empty beer bottle when i was a baby and my grandpa gave me a little champagne on new years when i was 14 so maybe

78. Have you ever done drugs? no

79. Who was your first real crush? his name was mateo and he was perfect in every possible way...

80. How many piercings do you have? 4

81. Can you roll your Rs? yes

82. How fast can you type? pretty dang fast

83. How fast can you run? i can outrun all 3 of my brothers if that’s what you’re asking

84. What color is your hair? chestnut brown

85. What color are your eyes? dark brown

86. What are you allergic to? THOTS jk i’m not allergic to anything

87. Do you keep a journal? yes

88. What do your parents do? my mom is an independent web designer and my dad sells cars for ford

89. Do you like your age? i don’t have an issue with it

90. What makes you angry? stupid people, particularly stupid females, people in general, cuphead

91. Do you like your own name? no. ‘cass’ is just an alias... i wish it wasn’t

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? girls: Cassandra, Adrianne    boys: Mateo, Levi, Atilio

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? i don’t have a preference

94. What are your strengths? listening, organization, colorful insult creation, art maybe

95. What are your weaknesses? food

96. How did you get your name? annabella was an option but it was also the name of my dad’s bosses dog, sophia was an option too but mom didn’t like it over my actual name sooo 

97. Were your ancestors royalty? nah we were italian farmers that fucked around in syria for awhile

98. What nationalities are you? mostly italian but lets see i’m also irish, syrian, czechoslovakian, and a sprinkle of french

99. Color of your bedspread? cheetah print

100. Color of your room? gray

[aggresivelyfriendly]

To Be So Lonely Harry Styles au pair AU-

Chapter 3

Another Day Till Paradise

HI! Thanks for reading, to @chasm2018​, for brainstorming, @papiermachecat​ for the catalyst, and @dirtystyles​ and @emulateharry​ for the read through!

Enjoy!

"Just one more set of notes to go over and I get to put this case away forever! And we get to go to Malibu!" Vee sing-songed into the phone. Harry's  chuckle was in key with her happiness.

"It's a long time coming, I know." She could imagine his fond smile. "You've been working hard for months."

"Months and months." She stretched long and groaned a little.

"You tired?" He asked. "You were up before Maribel and out the house."

"I am, but also really restless. I was so excited about putting this one to bed, I wasn't able to sleep much myself." She started to get her auto dictating stuff together. She usually typed things, but she was feeling the 12 hours she'd been up and knew the words would blur. She'd do it like this and have her assistant proof and file. She was ready to go home. That meant she needed to get off the phone. "What are the babies doing?" She asked instead.

"Oh, well, they are thrashing about in their cribs." She heard him move the monitor. "Looks like Bel is up and staring at Teo, willing him awake."

"Seems late for them to sleep." Since they dropped to one nap it was just after lunch until 2:30.

"We had that date with Jameson's nanny from playgroup, remember? They are on a slightly later schedule, so I fed them and then had them walk the short distance home."

"How did you do that?" Her mind boggled trying to picture it, she was sure her eyes goggled too.

He laughed. "I alternated. One by hand, the other on my hip, and when one started whining while the other started to drop off, I switched them." God, he was strong.

"Nice." Vee really should go.

"Yeah it worked a treat. You done typing the brief? when will you be home?" She heard him click off the monitor. "Teo is more than stirring now."

"Um," she'd be about done had she either got off the phone to dictate or typed it while they spoke. She opened a doc and started typing. She may be tired, but this was faster. "Give me a half an hour."

"Need to let me go?" She kinda did. He was walking, his breath was a little faster.

"No, put me on speaker and let me talk to the babies. We can wake them together." She heard a cry.

"Oh no need to wake them. But mamas voice may quiet them." She put her own phone on speaker and talked with Teo while she heard Harry with Maribel in the background.

She'd be jealous she wasn't there except she would be for the next two weeks. Harry had a friend in LA, a wealthy one (she'd have to ask about that), who had offered his beach house. She'd been bandying about vacation ideas when Harry's face brightened in that way he had. His ideas were usually brilliant, and he told great stories, though usually his tales of their day revealed more about himself than any direct question she had asked him. When she asked about him, he'd shrug and go over his CV. Born in the north of England, divorced parents, amazing mum, lovely sister, moved to the states to do his doctorate, couldn't keep up with the expense, was in sabbatical to earn some money to finish.

Those were all pleasant facts, except the divorce, his face scrunched like bitter lemon on that tidbit, but they weren't really about him. The thing she knew, were from observation, or his long asides.

He liked his coffee black but his tea strong and sweet, and only from a pot, not a bag. His favorite meal was breakfast and he ate it at all times of the day and night. Once she'd found him making pancakes at 2:30 am. "Couldn't sleep, and it's always a good time for pancakes," he'd grinned. "Try it." So she'd sat at the breakfast bar and been a good student of anytime breakfast. He also liked to grab cold pancakes as a snack, as did her babies now. "I use the whole grain mix and put in eggs, so they get protein." He'd looked for approval.

He looked for her approval a lot. She wasn't sure if he was trying to keep her involved, was being polite, or really was unsure. Harry's ideas and ways were nearly always A+.

He had asked for approval on the Malibu idea. And he'd told the story in that meandering way of his. Vee, how she'd come to think of herself since he adopted the nickname, usually left with more information about him, and less about whatever the actual topic.

The day they'd been talking about vacation ideas was a perfect example. Harry had been sitting across from her with that sweet little cock to his head he got when she was talking at length. It might be the first time in her life she felt like somebody listened to her and really liked it. Her mama did too, now, but when she was little her mama had been so tired. She worked too hard, too much, and too many jobs. Mama was tired when she got home, and she never had the money or paid time off for a vacation. Because of that, all that scarification, Vee did.

"I should be done with this case at month ends I think I'd really like to go somewhere, relax, play with the babies, sleep in."

Harry laughed. "Vacation with the twins means you won't be getting to sleep in much."

"Not if you come with us." She raised her eyebrows at him. He deserved a vacation too. He'd been working a lot right along with her. She'd paid him extra, but wanted to do more, and there was the other benefit. "Then we can switch off days, I'll keep them most nights, but maybe you can keep them a few mornings?" She hoped he liked the idea, or maybe he would like to just have the time off to see friends, or maybe even go home. "If you want too." She tried to take the pressure off, scale back the hope in her eyes.

"I think that vacation sounds amazing!" His dimples were so huge, she liked that they showed sometimes even when he wasn't smiling. He was now. "What kind of vacation were you thinking, mountains, beach, big city? Driving or flying?"

He was about to keep going when she cut him off. He might start talking about his favorite vacation when he was 12, or something, and entertaining as that time in Portugal may have been, it wasn't germane to the moment.

"I would actually just love to get out of the city, but still have city amenities. Beaches, and laying around, with nice food and hiking, but not an all inclusive. Ya know. And sunsets. I'd really love some devastating sunsets." She missed heat too. "Somewhere warm. And flying. But not too far. And no layovers. Not with Beli and Teo."

Harry had straightened up in his chair and smiled with flashing eyebrows. He'd put a finger up while he stood before disappearing into a room. He came back 15 min later with the same light on his face stirred together with a bit of triumph.

"I have the perfect vacation for us!" He grabbed the barstool he'd vacated with one dinner plated sized hand and sat across from her. Then leaned in with his chin on his fist. "Have you ever been to LA?"

Victoria wasn't able to school her face.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But there are some really amazing things to do and see there, if you avoid the star walk and such." She'd not been to the star wall. She'd been there for a conference and hadn't seen much but the walls of it, and the immediate area in downtown LA. She hadn't been impressed.

"How'd you know so much about LA?" It was on the other side of the world after all, from the place that imprinted on his voice.

"Oh, I have family, although I guess more close family friends there," he stopped to puzzle over the tree and its branches. "Yeah, just my dad's old college mate, not actually blood relations, though I called him uncle my whole life. Anyway, I wasn't sure where I wanted to go for my post grad. I talked to myself about the requisite places in England. But Oxford and Cambridge seem so stuffy."

"And Harvard isn't stuffy?" She'd gone to Brown.

He had a goofy snicker sometimes. It might be her favorite flavor of his laugh. "Not nearly as cool as Brown. Who went there?" He rapped his chin. "Oh JFK Jr! That's right. Who else?"

There was a list but she just narrowed her eyes.

"Anyway. The opposite of stuffy seemed like California. So I decided that Stanford might be nice. So I called my 'uncle' in LA to see if I could stay with him and commute to school or something."

Vee giggled.

"Ya, I had no idea how big California was. I guess I figured it was like San Francisco, Stanford. LA. Three hours tops, make a tour, see the sights, catch the vibe," he mimicked a surfboard and she lost it.

She was full out laughing by now. His hand illustrations and the little literal hop, skip, and a jump he performed before that. He should go to Disneyland too with that level of animation. "Did your uncle teach you different?"

"Well, no, like kinda. He mostly just was excited to have me. But we went to his house on the beach in Malibu first and then drove to Stanford. Which was beautiful. Up the coast."

"Isn't that like 12 hours?"

"Like 10, I dunno, forever, but we stopped in Monterey. That was nice. And beachfront. By the time we got to Palo Alto, which means high stick by the way, that's a weird name for a town, I was disappointed. The weather was way better in Malibu. Also I had imagined Stanford was waterfront."

"It's not far. The whole state can't be on the ocean."

"Think my expectations were ruinous. I had no idea how big the place was. But, it wasn't what I had in my mind." He shrugged.

"And Boston was." That was the puzzle. It was cold here, and definitely not postcard beaches.

"Well, it's waterfront."

"Do you do much swimming?" She asked.

"I had it in my mind to go abroad by then, and  Boston seemed to have shit weather like home."

"Shittier." Vee flashed her palms like that was a given. There was more to this story, something she wasn't getting.

"Oh, Texas has better?" Harry derailed her and got up to move behind her in the kitchen. He was grabbing food now. Oooh, nap snack time. She loved when he did this. It was like an informal nosh, so different from the stuffy steak lunches at work when she had to go to client things.

How the hell did he pull together a bruschetta bar so quickly? "Made it last night." He answered her face. "Had a craving, made loads." She'd been around the office late again Friday evening, but only two more weeks until the case officially ended. Her part anyway. But she answered his cheek while she loaded up a toast point.

"Claro, San Antonio at least. Houston's a bit shit, Dallas gets cold, and hellishly hot—"

"Isn't San Antonio really hot?" He interrupted.

"Yeah, but it's a little drier, and there are hills and Austin is close, and it's just better. Certainly than Boston." She sighed. Sometimes she missed how big the sky was and that the clouds looked like cartoons.

"You'll have to show me." She'd like to. The house that built her. That was like the only country song she liked.

She smiled and nodded looking. "Yeah, sometime, you can come to when we go we abuelita. But, much as I love my mother, that's not a vacation exactly."

"Right." He nodded along. "So I just called James, my pseudo uncle, and they are going home for a month. He said we could use his beach house...." Harry's eyebrows  were as high as they could go, floating on hope.

"I only have two weeks."

"Yeah, that's enough, you'll be missing the east-coast-no-bullshit by then. Everybody is fake happy and nice in California." He sounded like he was standing behind a lectern.

"Like you." She felt the need to remind him. He was the happiest person she knew.  But she knew a lot of lawyers.

"Oh, mine's not fake." He shook his head.

That was true. He really was just ridiculously nice.

"But it has its perks. Last time I was there, I found this smoothie shop, amazing wheatgrass shots, and they have a vegan restaurant." he responded to her face, again. He read her like a favorite book. "When in Malibu, Vee." His smile required an answer and a question.

"What the fuck is wheatgrass?"

"You just cursed!" He covered the speaker of the monitor.

She smirked, "That's so we can hear them, not them us, tonto."

"Did you just curse again, but in Spanish?!" He made his offended face. "You def need some California vibes and lots of wheatgrass to detox that liver. All that anger!" He was s shaking his head.

"What my what? None of what you just said makes any sense." She was giggling.

"I dunno, I'm making it up, based on what I can remember about how the guy got me to drink juiced grass. He said anger lives in the liver or the pancreas or some such. But it was good! The grass, kinda. And I felt good and my skin glowed after a few days of it."

His skin always glowed.

He misunderstood her incredulity. "You'll see! We can try some—"

"I'm not drinking grass, like I never ate mud pies." Victoria insisted, shaking her head at him, but carefully keeping her elbow against him. His had come to rest against her a moment ago. He was warm. It was hard for her to find the right temperature. She didn't have that trouble when they were adjacent.

"It's a thing. A Malibu thing, guaranteed to chill you out." That phrase sounded weird and wonderful in his accent. "All we need is flights, a car, everybody drives there, and bathing suits!" He picked up his phone. "Where do they have bathing suits right now? It's outta season."

The snow was black and melting. They may get one more blanket, or not. It was technically spring, just not in Boston.

"Target, it's almost Spring break." She reminded.

The corners of his lips turned down and she cocked her head to the side. She needed to look at his timeline. He seemed to really want to go back to school. She'd miss him dearly, but maybe they could work something out. Maybe she could hire somebody else for when he was in class and studying?

His brow cleared and brightened with an idea. "Wanna go pick stuff out while they finish their nap? Then we can meet you at the green. I'll bundle them up."

She checked her weather app. "Layers, the actual sun may come out!" She was already putting on her purse.

Vee had essentially been packing since that day, little by little. Well, shopping was probably a better word for it. She bought her first mum suit, and tried not to think much about it. Her old suits still fit, or fit again, just not like they used to, and her stomach had new pink welts, like veins of cotton candy, down the sides. She supposed there was nothing to be done about it, two humans had lived in there for a time. That had to leave a mark, right?

She still packed her old high cut black one piece. It looked good and she felt great in it. Victoria caught herself wondering what Harry would think of it before she switched her focus to the babies' suitcase. Like that mattered.

This mattered. Traveling with small children required stuff.

She'd been shopping for Teo and Bel as well. Who knew that resort wear for near toddlers were so adorable? There were a few pieces she knew would be super frustrating, long dress style things, cover ups she supposed.  She just wasn't sure what a baby needed to cover up. But it was so damn cute she'd bought it. There was a little voice in her head that said the inhibited movement may be worth the squalling near a pool. And what a pool it was.

More like an oasis from Harr's pictures. The lush greenery around the deck was like ivy, made it private from the beach the stairs led to. There was a gate, so the kiddos couldn't fall down the path or into the foliage, and the lounge chairs looked so plush, they made her want to nap immediately. "The fabric is moisture wicking, so you don't really need a towel." Harry had told her. She felt like it was made so you could swim naked, all the privacy screens and no need for linens. Not that anybody would be doing that. Small children and platonic nanny relationships and all.

Hmm.

But the moonlight glinting off crystal blue water and the night lighting of the pool were ethereal. Still took the swimmer to a new place it looked like, but instead the island oasis of the day, it was more a fairy hill, where magic things happened.

Magic.

She missed magic. She wasn't sure she'd ever really had it. The ex, well they'd had some good days, hanging out on quads and dancing late into the night. But, they'd gone straight to law school, then to a firm. There hadn't been much frolicking. Even their honeymoon had been serious, a tour of St. Petersburg and Poland. It was his dream trip, but some of the things they saw killed the libido. There were certainly no fairy lights or naked swimming.

Had she ever skinny dipped? That seemed like something that should have happened, and she was too old now to add it to her bucket list.

Was she too old?

Maybe it was time to start dating. She felt lonely. And was thinking about Harry in weird ways. She supposed it was just that they were going to a beautiful place that could be romantic. They made good friends, partners really, but he was younger, and they maybe flirted a tiny bit sometimes, but there was nothing romantic. He was just the nearest male. She needed some attention maybe. She hadn't in ages.

Victoria imagined kissing someone, a faceless someone, on one of the loungers, after a delicious midnight dip, of the thin variety. Wet lips and cool skin, hot breath. The feel on long fingers on both sides of her cheeks holding her still to deepen the kiss. The slide and wiggle of a rough tongue along her top mouth. Vee could feel the plump bottom lip  she imagined, and the broad back under her hands as she was rolled under most of the 60's, if the dates on his shoulders were a timeline.  The v of the back to a slim waist against her palms as they slid over skin beaded with cool water, and strong thighs with bits of text and fauna etched against the crux of her. She stood and defiantly closed the zipper.

That got oddly specific .

She needed to go on a date. But, obviously, after they got back from Malibu. Could she make up an excuse to leave the kids with Harry one day and meet with someone at the four seasons? Could she swipe right? She didn't think so. She'd just book a massage instead. The reviews there were amazing.

The knock startled her attention away from her suitcase. The door was open, the knock was courtesy.

"Hey, Harry!" She brightened her voice and smoothed her hair. For a moment, she thought about avoiding eye contact, but that would be a tell. She never did that. Especially not in court--a good suit and strong eye contact were good armor. He'd know something was up, she just had to pretend she wasn't just thinking of him on top of her or a liaison with a random to distract her from it. "You packed?"

"Yeah, did it during nap time today. Thought I'd see if you wanted help with the twins' bags?"

"No, gracias." Ohhh she was distracted. "I did them mostly yesterday, just got together the things that came today."

"And you are done?"

She fidgeted with the zipper her hand was still on, looked at it, so she didn't have to be staring into his eyes anymore. Eye contact was good, until it was eye fucking. She didn't want to get caught there, and her mind was still under the moon. "Yes!"

"It's easy to pack when everything is new huh?" His voice was lined with laughter. His teasing voice; she loved when she caught him talking to the littles in it. The dimples pressed into his voice and his cheeks.

"I put a few older things in there." She was looking in his eyes again. The smile was there too, and in her answering grin.

"Swimsuits, a dress or two you don't intend to wear?" He guessed expertly.

"How do you know that."

"Sister, mum." He shrugged. "But, since you're done, nightcap?"

It was only 9 pm, but their flight was ungodly early, so the kiddos would hopefully sleep until the airport, and they could get a full day on top of travel. "No, a melatonin is probably a better idea. Thanks though." Wine or anything like it, was a bad idea. Red wine made her languorous and chatty. Nope. And horny, which she was already battling, for the first time in a good while.

"Ok, see you before the sun."

"Yes, what a way to start the day!" She felt lame. That was lame, right? But he giggled.

"Oh yeah, I usually like it from the other side more."

"I used to, when you get to be my age, you'll see."

He rolled his eyes, but they had had this discussion before. "Sleep well, Victoria."

He didn't really call her that. She liked the way the syllables rolled off his tongue.

She needed that melatonin. No thinking about his tongue. Anymore thinking about his tongue. She'd need the moon medicine and to meditate, or something, to sleep.

In the end, meditating turned into masturbating, and she slept like a baby, for longer than she had in two months thanks to the case. She was thankful, the flight was hell. They were delayed, their early flight for baby sleep plan backfired, and they didn't make it to the beach house until sundown. And the kids were already sleeping as it was almost their bed time by their internal clocks.

She wished she could pretend she had jet lag, or she was tired at all. Instead, she was shaking from all the coffee she had consumed. Harry, too. They both drank iced coffee the way you were supposed to drink water.

They'd put the babies in the appointed room, where their hosts had put a lovely crib for them. It was only a minute to get the pack and play up. They'd have to alternate nights, seemed fair, though the babies would never know.

She watched them for a second. Two years ago, in the throes of a dying marriage, she'd have never imagined this life, this new life.

Part of that was Harry, he was a godsend. They had  dealt with the rough travel day together, baby switches and breaks included.

Apart from the shakes from all the iced coffee he kept producing, she could not fault him. He'd make somebody a great partner one day.

"Victoria?" She heard and followed the voice. The house was a good size, but not so large she couldn't hear him, and most of the place had a fantastic view.

The view outside was way better than the pictures. The sun was going down and the sunset started like cotton candy, there was a widening purple streak, and from the stairs down to the desk she could see the sun sinking into the ocean. It looked like it went on forever. It stole her breath.

Here sense was taken as well, because the view on the deck was better, Harry was stood between two of the plush deck chairs she had dreamed of and had fantasies about. He had two glasses of champagne, and was backlit by the sunset.

The worst of it, was that he was shirtless.

"Dios mio!" she exclaimed.

"Right," he opened his arms and turned around. His back was broader than she imagined. "Could this view be more gorgeous?

No, no it couldn't.

[kitten-keith]

Horrid Self Indulgence

Wrote this long thing and now it’s gone cause I posted it to the wrong account and copy paste didn’t work so /fuck me/ anyway.

The whole following fic is purely self indulgent garbage, thus the name (it’s even called this in my google docs because I HAD A PLAN for what I was doing and it was supposed to be insanity) though as usual things get derailed and Idk. I had wanted to get into the hijinks of this concept but lost steam after starting the second bit. But the first bit can stand alone. ish. I guess.

Idk. It’s all completely ridiculous though so idk have fun.

Klance, slightly intoxicated, sharing a bed, Keith is uncomfortable AF and Lance is trying to be chill about it. Weird head shit and accidental rituals. You’ll see. Seriously. Horrid self indulgence.

-----

It was a pleasant moment between comrades that went horribly, heinously, horrifically wrong. 

And if that’s what bonding with Keith friggin Kogane gets him then absolutely not, never again.

It was such a simple stupid fuck up. How was he supposed to know?!

They were at a dinner, stumbling awkwardly through an alien planets customs, trying unsuccessfully to pretend they were okay with the garbs they’d been forced to wear and that the food didn’t make them nauseous when Lance had made the biggest mistake ever and looked at Keith. 

See, because he was the leader his attire had to display this-this—nobility. And god, Keith was anything but noble. He was sitting to the right of the planet’s leader, Allura across from him, and he looked like they might as well have sat him at the kids table with how his brows furrowed and he looked at the ground like he was trying not to cry.

His face was red enough to match the silk scarf loosely clinging to his shoulders and his thumbs rubbed absently over his ungloved hands. He was bare aside from the scarf and a darker one wrapped around his waist for modesty that he’d had to fight for. Apparently this planet had no concept of an external penis or whatever and needed to be educated on human biology before they gave in to Keith’s demands. 

The whole thing was about respect, leaving yourself bare to show you had nothing to hide, but to remind everyone of his station the locals had him decked out in jewels from head to toe. They were braided into his hair, dangling from thin chains across his chest, Lance was positive there was some sort of jeweled sandal decorating his tiny delicate toes too. 

(And not because he paid attention to that sort of thing. Just. Ya know. Shiny shit.) 

Allura was actually dressed about the same though being a woman with no external penises she was actually way nakeder than Keith. And, as she was a full on princess they’d given her a whole slew of silver that had strategically covered all necessary bits that Lance’s mother might have flinched at. 

Not that Allura seemed to give a fuck in the slightest and even seemed to enjoy it as she spoke animatedly to the world leaders, the jewels on her body making small clinking noises with every movement. 

Lance had spotted perfect (and he means perfect) dark nipples exactly 16 times since they’d all sat down to their meal and absolutely couldn’t take it anymore so that was when he’d turned his attention to Keith. 

And somehow had been unable to turn away from him since.

The other Paladins were stripped some and given a few shiny baubles. Lance himself was wearing flowy pants slit up the sides over the dark boxers he’d thankfully been allowed to continue wearing. A couple gold plated necklaces and an arm band and he was good to go. Lance has no issue being topless and actually kinda liked the style. Hunk was a bit more uncomfortable, same pants, same boxer treatment (his were white with yellow suns on them, Lance clapped him on the back for unintentionally matching.) 

Hunk had the same kind of jewelry too but try all he might he couldn’t drop his hands from where they were wrapped around his chest.

He said he was cold repeatedly but lance figured he was just self conscious and offered him plenty of wolf whistles back in their dressing rooms because “man hunk you wanna bench press me later cause those arms are making me weak~!” 

But sadly it didn’t seem to work. 

Pidge was an interesting sell. Same bottom situation in her signature green but she’d also managed to get away with a pair of socks that she was no longer wearing on her feet.

They were providing just a hint more cover for her chest after she’d wrapped Lance’s, Hunks’s, and her own scarf around herself like a makeshift halter top. The locals hadn’t liked it and Allura had tried to explain that female breasts were nothing to be ashamed of but Pidge’s size and thus assumed age had granted her the “let the child be” excuse. 

And sure, Lance was a grown man who was all for equality and free the nipple and aaallll that jazz but if they had forced his pseudo baby sister to go topless he might have lost his absolute shit and gotten them all sent back to the castle. 

Not that that would have been the worst thing at this point because then he wouldn’t be staring at Keith like this— to avoid staring at Allura! Of course— and then he wouldn’t have gotten elbowed in the side by the Pidgeling and gotten the funny look from Hunk and nah man okay. 

Lance wasn’t ogling the leader of voltron. 

He wasn’t. 

He was just. 

Uh. 

Worried about him. 

Yeah, that’s right. Worried. 

Which was what lead him to follow Keith’s retreating form the second they were allowed to adjourn for the night. 

It’s what compelled him to bump his shoulder and wave a hand in greeting. 

And maybe that pout had something to do with Lance’s laughing, throwing his arm over his shoulders, and ushering him to his room for the night. 

“Come on dude, I've got something for you, stashed from that one planet with the abomination? You know the one… Kell? Krell? It’s good okay, better than what they just tried to feed us. Take the edge off.” 

Take the edge off. 

Famous last words? 

Keith groaned and wrapped his arms around himself tightly but nodded and willingly turned off course from his own room. Lance wondered if this was so easy because he’d been so beaten down by the day or because he actually found solace in Lance’s company. 

He didn’t have the nerve to ask and instead simply sauntered into his room, leaving Keith to stand idly by the newly shut door. 

“It tastes better than nunville but it’s a little stronger so you’re gonna wanna sip at it okay?” 

Keith nodded but his eyes looked glassy, like he wasn’t actually listening. 

Lance moved to his temporary rooms vanity setting and shuffled through his bottles of toiletries. When they’d decided to indulge the locals in their customs and stay a few nights basking in their hospitality Lance had been told to pack quickly but he hadn’t forgotten anything important. This included the little silver pouch that he’d somehow barely touched since keeping it with him all this time. 

He opened the pull top with his teeth to take a small sip before offering it to Keith who was still standing right against the door as if he was afraid to move. Considering how loose the scarf around his waist looked, he might have been. 

He did look… good though. 

Remarkably so. 

Amidst the finery and the sheer and silk fabrics, his hair in a loose braid over one shoulder and that almost permanent flush across his cheeks, he was beautiful and adorable and stunning all at once and it was doing ridiculous things to Lance’s chest. He almost regretted taking the sip that he did because he worried about what he might let slip aloud, looking at Keith like that, but as the alien substance travelled down his throat and warmed his body he kept his wits. He felt the buzzing under his skin but retained his sense. He was here to offer Keith a moment to relax. Nothing more.

He walked over to Keith and instead of handing him the pouch he resealed it and held it softly under one arm as he reached out with both hands for Keith’s waist. 

Keith flinched so hard his back hit the door, “what are you doing?!”

Lance rolled his eyes, pushing closer and grabbing on to the scarf around his waist tugging and tightening it for him. 

“Looked like you were having trouble.”

Keith’s flush was so hot Lance could practically feel it.

Poor thing. 

“Right… thanks…” he stayed against the door but took the pouch when Lance offered it. 

Lance turned to walk over to his bed and make himself comfortable and by the time he turned his attention back to Keith the boy was swallowing.

“You remembered what I said about that stuff being hard hitting… right?”

Keith shrugged.

Took another sip. (This one looked more like a sip at least. Maybe Lance wouldn’t have to carry him back to his room later.)

He sealed the stopper and looked around the room briefly before walking in the straightest line imaginable to sit on the foot of Lance’s bed, holding the pouch out to him again. 

Lance considered it, wondering if it would help or hinder his case to not make a fool of himself with Keith looking like that and decided why not. Besides, he could pace himself, unlike some people. 

When he finished taking his last sip, feeling the warmth and the contentment sitting in his stomach as he leaned back on his elbows on his bed, he hummed to himself and shut the top, putting it to the side. 

Keith shuffled around so his back was to the bed post and he placed his hands over his lap uncomfortably.

“So uh. Was—was that it?”

“Chill Keith. You’ve been looking so tightly wound today I figured you could use a break.” 

Keith visibly paled and moved to curl in on himself but thought better of it. His thumbs started to track back and forth over his fingers though. Bad sign. 

“Relax!” Lance demanded, stretching the vowel sounds to make it more playful. 

Keith neglected to heed this order and instead looked away. 

“Look, I doubt it’ll cause any problems, everyone knows their customs made you uncomfortable. Here, if you want you can go ahead and get under the covers.” Lance reached behind him and pulled up the bed sheets. It would help his own situation too. Cover Keith and that pretty skin of his up. Put that beautiful body away because his own was starting to get ideas he didn’t need. 

He remembered Allura looking just as beautiful if not more so and it helped for a second to feel better mentally but he was still fighting not to be turned on next to half naked (that was being generous) Keith. 

“That might actually be… are you sure? I could just— leave. I could leave.”

Lance rolled his eyes. 

“Would you chill if you left or would you stay up all night worrying about the kinds of impressions you’re leaving?”

Keith was silent. His thumb disappeared behind his pointer to dig his little blunt nail into his middle. 

“Get in the bed. Let me tell you stories.” 

Keith’s eyes lit up at that and for a moment he started forward to crawl across the bed toward where the sheets were up, but he stopped himself again. 

Lance sighed.

“Feeling exposed?”

Keith nodded.

“You know we showered together back at the garrison right? I’ve seen you naked. Completely naked. And lathered.”

Of course, this was before Lance’s full sexual awakening and before Keith had filled out like he did with those abs and thighs for days but uh— that wasn’t a necessary addition to the conversation it just wasn’t. 

Keith still flushed like a tomato and it made Lance’s little traitorous heart do a flip.

“Right right. I forget you didn’t even remember me from the garrison.” Lance offered sardonically, trying to shift the mood. 

Keith bit his lip. Man, even that looked good. Lance wanted to bite that lip. He could just see it. Lip to lip with Keith Kogane groaning out. Lance’s hand on his shoulder pushing him back on the bed, the other reaching beneath him to get a nice big handful of that round perky ass—

Okay. 

Okay maybe Keith shouldn’t get under the covers. 

Maybe he should leave. 

He should leave. 

He should—

Keith started to mumble something when Lance turned away and shut his eyes. 

“Alright you have ten seconds, go on princess.”

It was silent for a moment. 

Lance squeezes his eyes shut tightly because this was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing.

“10.” 

But he was doing it.

“9”

There was the sound of Keith shuffling behind him, pulling up the sheets more and crawling into bed. He was getting comfortable by the time Lance reached 3 and Keith spoke up telling him he could stop. 

Lance nodded and turned around so he could face Keith, continue conversations, see if he could find a relevant story in his brain about his family or something simple back home that would help Keith unwind. 

Instead he was struck a bit dumb by Keith snuggled under his (always color coded) blue bed sheets, his inky black hair splayed out on the pillow. Lance had always thought Keith’s eyes were this remarkable shade of blue but surrounded by all the blue in his bed Lance realized he was wrong. They were clearly more of a violet, wide and staring at him under lashes that were too long and too elegant for a guy who made a living kicking furry alien chinchillas in the face.

And with that thought came the image of Keith kicking ass, those muscle toned legs under skin tight space suits…

Now basically bare and in his bed. 

Naked. 

Naked Keith in his bed. 

Naked Keith in his bed staring at him expectantly like— like—

Right. Right he was waiting for a story. 

Okay. 

Lance flopped onto his side, too close to Keith but in an effort to remain comfortable and casual it had to be done, and went back to racking his mind for an idea that didn’t involve pressing his body as close to Keith’s as physically possible. 

Something jingled as he went down and he remembered the abundance of jewels that had been decorating Keith’s body. 

There were still a few left in his hair that he seemed to not care about but it looked like the little jeweled sandals were there, as were the ones that had decorated his arms.

It took him a second but Lance scooped them up and put them on the bedside table before getting comfortable again. 

“Oh okay so, let me tell you about the time my big sister Veronica brought home the biggest stupidest “boyfriend” she could find…” 

Lance could see Keith smile just beneath the blanket. 

He reached out and started to pick the jewels out of Keith’s hair as he spoke, occasionally running his fingers through it. If Keith had a complaint he didn’t voice it. Besides, just because it was styled stupid didn’t make it any less soft.

By the time Lance got to the big reveal of the story, the part where Veronica had hired the guy to piss off their dad over an argument they’d had about Veronica’s openness to bringing a girlfriend home (maybe, in the future), Keith had completely knocked out.

And for some reason, Lance thought that was alright.

They could totally just. Sleep in the same bed. No problem.

With Keith wearing nothing but a silk scarf.

He thought this was a perfectly good idea as he showered and put on a fresh pair of boxers and crawled under his sheets to the sound of Keith’s light breathing.

He was a little dizzy, but forgot that the biggest after effect of inebriation was poor judgement, and easily curled up next to Keith.

Keith, who was just awake enough to take Lance’s hand.

Lance thought it was adorable.

Because Keith was adorable. 

And Lance wanted to be touching his skin like this (sort of) anyway.

It worked for him. 

He was sleepy too.

So sleepy he lapsed almost instantly into dreams.

Dreams of Allura dancing just out of his reach. Of her nonchalance at his flirting and efforts to be noticed by her. Making him feel useless. Undesirable. Unworthy.

He was so pathetic.

Keith’s voice was in his head. 

Telling him how kind he was. How sweet he was.

“I couldn’t do any of this without you Lance.”

“I need you.”

“I hope you know that. I hope you know that—if you could see yourself how I see you…”

“Lance you’re so…”

“I want…”

“I wish…”

Keith was at his side. Mumbling those nothings into his ear in little breathy sighs. 

It felt nice. 

It was nice to hear. 

Nice to feel Keith pressing in beside him.

“I wish you could see what I see in you… love yourself as much as I do...Lance, I…”

Well this was awfully self indulgent of him. Dreaming of a Keith who would say those kinds of things. As if the real Keith capital L Loved him. 

Like Lance hadn’t spent years trying to get his attention the same way he had with Allura too. 

As if he hadn’t gotten shot down with every attempt to—

“I liked you then too! I was just… afraid to let anyone in…”

“Liar, you didn’t even remember me.”

“That was the lie…”

“That was…?”

“You were so cute… always trying so hard… always going the extra effort to make people smile or laugh… I always thought you were…”

“You liked me back at the garrison? Like... one smoothie two straws, like-like…?”

Keith turned away, rolling onto his side. Face probably flushed a deep crimson again. Man he was so cute…!

“Like write your name in my notebook with a bunch of hearts, like-like… yeah.”

Extremely self indulgent dream. 

But Lance was gonna take it.

He squeezed himself close to Keith’s body, wrapping an arm around his chest as Keith jumped.

“And now you…?”

“Now I…”

It was silent. 

Lance tried to ignore how perfectly Keith’s ass cheeks felt pressed to his crotch.

He felt naked.

Naked Keith in his bed. Saying all these pretty hopeful things...What a perfect dream…

Lance gently bumped his hips. He couldn’t help it, and it was his dream after all right?

Keith was silent, but reached a hand back to slide down Lance’s waist, breathing loud.

Was that how Lance’s mind worked? Show me a love confession followed by an immediate bone. 

Lance’s wet dreams were clearly things of substance.

“Do you love me?”

He bumped his hips again. His dick hardening fast.

Keith’s fingers dug into Lance’s boxers, applying just enough pressure to drive him forward, keep him pressed to his ass.

“I do… do you…?”

“Hmm… never thought about it before.”

Keith made a low unhappy noise.

“I def love your face… your so fucking pretty face…” 

Keith went silent again. Lance ground his hips against him and his hard cock was finding a very comfortable place right between his cheeks. 

“And I love this body...your ass is heaven, Keith, wish you could feel this...” 

Keith was definitely naked. Naked enough that Lance was desperate to get out of his boxers. 

How could his dream provide him perfectly naked love confessing Keith and not leave Lance equally perfectly naked?

Sense, where was it?

“I love how brave you are… stupid and reckless and it drives me insane with worry. But brave.” 

Keith backed into Lance’s lap, rolling his hips and made Lance’s mind stutter.

“I love how—how much you care about things even when you don’t show it… I love your laugh…”

He could feel Keith’s entire body against his front, a single useless silk scarf around his waist, the rest probably lost somewhere in the bed. His hand found one of Keith’s nipples and he started to slowly rub his fingers around the nub causing Keith to raise his chest into the touch a bit more with a small high pitched sound.

“I love how you hum during flight simulations and I always leave coms open so I can hear you…”

With Keith raising his chest for Lance’s hand it gave him a moment to slip his other hand underneath him. He pinched his nipple between his thumb and forefinger once before sliding that first hand down the span of his body. Feather light touches over the ridges of his abs, loving the way Keith twitched and rocked harder back into Lance. 

“I love how unbelievably dense you could be sometimes, you’re such a mess you’re perfect—” Lance moved his head so he was right against Keith’s ear for the word “perfect” but lost his nerve when he dropped his face into the back of Keith’s neck, “What am I saying… of course I love you.”

Did Lance have feelings for Allura? Yes. Did he wish she’d reciprocate? Yeah. 

Did Lance feel guilty about indulging himself in a dream with someone who he also had some very strong (possibly stronger) feelings for? No, not at all. 

Because real talk? If Keith had said half of this in real life Lance’s heart would have combusted and he would have kissed the life out of him by now—

Because that was just what Keith did to him sometimes. 

He just… blew his mind with how much he could make Lance feel. 

Christ.

Good lord.

He hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity to kiss him yet. 

He reached up with the arm that was beneath Keith, his hand spreading wide over his neck to grab his jaw and tentatively guide him to face him. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Keith’s hips ground back hard as he laughed, “you’re asking that now?”

He was right. 

Besides, kinda stupid to ask permission from a dream right? 

“Stupid stupid me, right?” 

“Stop that.”

“Right let’s get to the smooching.”

“Yeah alright I take it back.”

“If you love me you have to love all of me.”

Lance could practically hear Keith rolling his eyes. 

“Hey it’s my dream—“

And it was absolutely superpowered. Maybe there was something in his drink that had different properties on this planet because when Keith parted his lips and lifted his head they had never looked so inviting in his life. He had to stop himself mid sentence to dive for those lips.

Smashed up his nose a little bit on Keith’s cheek which he was sure he would have felt too if this wasn’t a dream but Lance didn’t care because he was kissing Keith Kogane.

And yes. He’d had plenty of dreams where he’d kissed Keith. Plenty of dreams where they’d made out on the rec room floor or the garrison showers or had sex in reds cockpit. 

But they had never ever felt like this.

His brain practically fizzled out. 

He felt Keith’s tongue against his and then suddenly it was gone.

Felt like he was falling, disoriented. Someone (Keith?) reached out to catch him. Dug little blunt nails into his arm in panic.

“Lance—what—“

The dream shifted. Lance was alone, floating in an empty pool, naked and confused and annoyed.

The water was cold but didn’t make him shiver. 

There was a splash in the distance, and Lance hoped it was Keith but he couldn’t see anything. Time passed and he started to lose sense of where he or the water began. 

He’d have given anything to be back with Keith. 

What a shitty way to end his dream…

When he woke up his throat was dry, like he’d had too much to drink the night before and his head spun a bit. 

He sat up and found he was on the far side of the bed where Keith had gone to sleep. Didn’t even see Keith, so maybe he’d gotten up earlier and Lance had managed to settle into place where his body heat had been. 

Of course that was for mere moments before he glanced to the opposite side of his bed and found… himself?

He also realized very suddenly he was buttnaked with only a silk scarf tied loosely around his hips and his hair was long enough to tickle his shoulders.

He looked down at himself and saw the expanse of absolutely flawless Keith body, down to the little dark hairs just under that useless scarf.

Lance wasn’t sure why he did it, but he reached down to grab himself in his palm (Keith in Keith’s palm??) And was immediately overwhelmed by the sensation of it. He had to bite his lip to keep quiet and fell back on the bed hard as his hand tightened to seek out the feeling. He was partially hard already and from the feeling of it he must have been suffering all night.

But excuse you Lance. This isn’t your body what are you doing? 

Dreaming? Still? Could have sworn he was very much awake now…

He forced himself to stop, noting quietly that he was absolutely not going to forget what it felt like, and looked over at his own body. 

Had to be a dream. 

Had to be.

He shut his eyes, letting his finger tips graze over the inside of Keith’s thighs because dream or no there were so many nice things about that he was gonna keep doing it.

Well until someone shook him awake (again?) 

It was strange seeing an expression that was so clearly Keith, puzzled with furrowed brows and tight lips, on his own face. 

But there it was. 

Staring at him like he was the strangest mystery in the known universe. Which, to be fair, if he was still wearing Keith’s face he kind of was. (And kind of had to be considering he definitely wasn’t the one wearing his own face.) 

Keith (you know, it felt like Keith and acted like Keith, but he really didn’t know if that was Keith) was the first to register the shock of the mornings revelation. Lance actually felt kinda slow and confused. Maybe he’d drank too much— no wait, Keith did. 

Anyway.

So. 

Keith started screaming. And Lance started screaming. 

And maybe that wasn’t a great idea while guests on a diplomatic mission in another world palace with your comrades in arms down the hall while you’re both pretty naked and in bed together. 

But uh. 

Fun morning.

[cagestark]

Prompt; ABO Starker getting together but Tony is the omega and Peter is the alpha. Peter is still head over heels, star struck, hero worship over Tony and calling him 'sir' and 'mr. Stark' and blushing wherever Tony gives him attention and praise. Maybe it all comes to a head when Tony goes into heat? Maybe Peter's first rut is triggered by Tony teasing him mercilessly? Bonus points for eager-to-please Peter

Darling anon, this isn’t really what you asked for. I’m so sorry. I hope this is at least acceptable, and if you are very upset, please come back into my inbox and I’ll rework this. For now. Take it!

Warnings: ABOverse. Alpha Peter, Omega Tony. Smut. 8.5k

Read here on AO3!

Peter is reaching with his fork for the last arancini when another fork intercepts. The metal on metal screeches as Peter’s fork is pinned to the plate just short of the last rice ball. Peter eyes the hand holding the fork—tanned, knuckles singed—and then follows it up the arm, bare, sprinkled with dark hair interrupted by the odd, pink scar. Before he even reaches the well-shaped facial hair, Peter is flushed, withdrawing his fork. Tony is wearing his glasses tonight, the lenses tinted a light blue.

“Put down the fork and nobody has to get hurt,” Tony says. He keeps his voice a low, conspiratorial rumble that can just barely be heard over the ruckus of general conversation from the rest of the Avengers around the table.

Slowly, Peter puts his fork down beside his half-eaten plate of osso buco, then lifts his hands to shoulder height, palms open. “My hands are where you can see them,” Peter says. He lets his voice tremble. “The rice ball is yours. But please don’t take the rest of the prosciutto. Have mercy.”

Tony spears the arancini and delivers it to his own plate for safe keeping, a bear hoarding food for the winter. “Bold of you to assume I’m capable of mercy, Peter Pan. And to add insult to injury—” Tony slips the last few slices of dry-cured ham bliss to take up cozy residence beside the rest of his food. Peter clutches at his heart, face twisted in pain.

“God, you two are like a two-man theatre troupe,” Natasha remarks over her third glass of wine. She’s just beginning to look flushed. Peter had asked for his own glass (“Come on, I’m eighteen, not eight!”) but to no avail. “Does that make seconds for you, Tony?”

“Thirds,” Bucky mutters. He hasn’t recovered from the spaghetti alla carbonara massacre of thirty minutes ago. If Peter didn’t know how well the ex-assassin got along with Tony, he might try to convince the older man to sleep with one eye open. Bucky certainly had the whole casually-planning-your-murder-over-trivial-offenses aesthetic going on. Peter wondered if that was something teachable—did they have a wikiHow article for that?

“It’s that time of the year,” Tony says. Despite how much he’s eaten, he still goes about the food on his plate in a methodical, prim manner: cutting it into bite-sized pieces, making sure no foods touch. “Jarvis tracks my eating habits and BMI, and he says both are on the upswing. I’ve got about two weeks left.”

“Two weeks until what?” Peter asks.

Tony gives him a bald and unashamed look. “Until my heat, kid.”  

“Oh,” Peter says, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. He’s got permanent foot-in-mouth disease whenever he’s within twenty feet of the omega. Of course, Tony is talking about his heat. Why else would he be eating enough for three?

“I thought you took heat suppressants,” Natasha remarks. This kind of talk—heats, suppressants—it usually isn’t table conversation. Most omegas consider it the ultimate social faux paus. Maybe Tony does too, Peter wonders. Maybe spending so much time in the public eye has chipped away at the wall between what he wants to keep to himself and what he has to share with others.

“For the spring heat,” Tony agrees, a hand resting on his gently distended stomach. The sight of that tickles something in the back of Peter’s brain—something in there itches, but he can’t find it, can’t scratch it. “But at my age, the suppressants don’t synthesize with my biology as well. Doc told me it is actually safer for me to go through every other heat au naturale. Which makes for an interesting fall season. At least I can hide the extra weight with all those winter scarves the board keeps giving me for Christmas—”

“You look great,” Peter says. He tries hard not to openly wince. Everyone else at the table does their best to pretend they hadn’t heard him.  

Tony’s smile is soft, maybe even a little flattered. He winks. “Thanks, Peter Pan. Nice to know someone around here still thinks I’ve got it.”

Oh, you’ve got it alright, Peter thinks helplessly. Probably couldn’t lose it even if you tried.

“Isn’t it dangerous to go through your heats without suppression?” Bruce asks.

“We’ve weighed the pros and cons. Calculated risks, Brucie, that’s the name of the game.”

“You know what all of this means?” Steve asks. Beside him, Bucky stiffens. The only other male omega—in the room and in the Avengers—he is not nearly as comfortable with his designation as Tony. Peter can hardly blame him when a part of him is still stuck in the 40’s when omegas were marketed as good for nothing but breeding and housewife fodder. With most heats coming twice a year, in the beginning and at the end, surely Bucky’s is approaching also— “Tiramisu is in order.”

Bucky relaxes. Tony perks up. Peter’s stomach grumbles—even after his own generous helpings.

“Cap, that’s the best idea you’ve had since—well—an hour ago, when you suggested Italian. All for tiramisu?”

A cluster of forks rise into the air.  

-

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“The kid. He’s a beta, right?”

“He has not presented otherwise.”

“That’s not exactly an answer, is it?”

“…”

“J?”

“I believe he is a beta, sir.”

“Your confidence is downright stirring, J.”

“Always a pleasure to give, sir.”

-

“I mean, it’s not unheard of, right?” Peter asks. He is sandwiched between Ned and MJ on his bed in his room at the tower. It was just another benefit of joining the Avengers: a fancy new room on the Avengers’ floor, coffee with Captain America in the morning and eating peanut butter out of the jar with Natasha at night. The bed is huge—and okay, maybe he’s still just used to the twin he occupied at May’s, but it’s still nice to fit all of his friends on it at once to watch movies on the mounted television. “Relationships. Between betas and omegas.”

MJ gives a longsuffering sigh, one which makes Peter frown. Yeah, they’ve had this conversation a few (million) times before, but she could at least humor him, couldn’t she? “Stark is a male omega. They’re super fucking rare, Peter. Alphas literally kill over omegas. The competition for him even if he wasn’t Earth’s Greatest Defender and a fucking billionaire—it’s extensive. Why would he choose you when he could find a dozen beefy Captain-esque alphas to satisfy his biology?”

“Okay. But. It’s not impossible, right? That’s what I’m hearing. That it’s not impossible.”

“Mr. Stark would be lucky to have Peter,” Ned says. “I mean, yeah he’s not as buff as Captain America. Yeah he doesn’t have pheromones that attract Tony on, like, a biological level. And okay, he does snore. A lot. But—”

“Thanks, Ned,” Peter grumbles. “You make me sound like a real catch.”

“You are!” Ned insists. He actually takes his eyes off of A New Hope where Princess Leia is ghostly in blue, insisting that Obi-Wan Kenobi is her only hope. “You think any of those knotheads out there can keep up with Mr. Stark in the workshop? And look at my parents. They’re both omegas. It’s not all pheromones, it’s—it’s chemistry.”

A slow smile creeps over Peter’s face. Ned and MJ create the perfect balance of unending optimism and brutal realism. In their own ways, both are looking out for him, and he knows that they want the best for him. Even if what MJ says hurts. Even if what Ned says hurts too, just in a different, softer way. One gives him the seed of hope, and the other gives him the trellis that keeps him stuck in place, terrified to make a move.

It’s balance.

-

Things get strange for Peter in the weeks before Tony’s heat. He attributes it to the poor weather, and MJ helpfully says that Mercury is entering its retrograde, so apparently that explains how these days his temper is short when usually his fuse is long enough for two. Even the other Avengers seem to take notice of his volatile mood, giving him a wide berth.

The only person with whom things don’t change is Tony. Around the omega, Peter is his normal blushing mess, though he does try hard to go out of his way to make things easier for the man. In school he learned how stressful an omega’s heat is: a week to two weeks of mindlessness while their biology urges them to breed. It can be unbearable without heat suppressants—

—or without a partner. Does Tony have someone to weather the worst of his heat with? Other omegas to scent and comfort him? An alpha to knot him?

The glass Peter is holding shatters in his hand. Orange juice soaks him, stinging the cuts in his palm. Beside him, Sam shouts an oath, grabbing his plate of pancakes to keep them out of the line of citrus fire. The rest of the table is silent, a dozen pairs of eyes watching him. It makes Peter’s blood boil—why are they staring at him this way? He’s fucking superhuman. He broke dozens of glasses when he first gained his powers until he acclimated to his enhanced strength. Accidents happen.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Tony mutters from over his shoulder. Peter can’t smell it—as a beta, his nose is unsophisticated, unable to pick up pheromones—but he imagines that the man is scenting him, calm waves like the ocean dragging at the shore. A hand comes out, nudges Peter’s soaked plate (rest in peace, crepes) back, and the begins to carefully maneuver the largest shards of glass into his palm.

Peter grabs his wrist with the hand that isn’t dripping blood onto the table. “Do not touch the glass.”

It comes out much firmer than he intended it to, like there is someone else controlling his voice. He’s never heard himself sound like that before. It clearly has an effect on Tony who opens his hand, glass falling back to the table, wrist going lax and pliant in Peter’s grip.

“Hey,” Steve says. “It’s alright—”

“Mind your business,” Peter says through his teeth. There’s tension in the air, especially between him and Steve now, who is posturing at the end of the table, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Then it all comes in focus to him: he’s making a fucking scene, here. He is holding Tony’s wrist, commanding him, like Peter is some sort of alpha. He yelled at Captain America. It’s fresh. It’s disrespectful. His whole face goes red and he stands so abruptly that he nearly knocks over Tony who is behind him.

Then he turns and sprints from the room, leaving blood drops behind him like a breadcrumb trail. In his room, he goes into the adjoining bathroom and runs water over his aching palm. The cuts are trying to seal around the glass, but he doesn’t even feel the pain. Grasping the shards with his fingers is easy thanks to his enhanced grip. Someone knocks on his bedroom door, but Peter ignores it. After a while, the knocking stops.

Peter sulks for nearly thirty minutes before his manners outweigh his misery. The cuts on his palm are just raw looking scars now, but he knows they will disappear soon too. Taking a deep breath, he steels himself before leaving his room.

Breakfast is finished. The room is filled with the sound of plates being scraped clean and stacked beside the sink, chairs being pushed in at the table. Someone has cleaned up the glass and the orange juice—better not have been Tony, he could have cut himself, he could have gotten hurt—and Peter has to physically shake his head to shake those thoughts right out through his ears. What is wrong with him?

“Captain Rogers?” Peter says timidly. The man is closest—closer than Tony who is at the sink arguing with Clint about proper coffee ground disposal. Steve’s face is open and kind when he stops collecting half-filled glasses of milk and orange juice.

“Hey Peter. It’s still Steve, okay? It’s always Steve.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I wanted to say sorry for jumping down your throat earlier. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Steve says. He’s so kind it hurts. “Everybody has days like that, me included. Apology accepted, okay?”

Peter smiles. “Thanks. Steve.”

It takes a while for him to get Tony alone, but Peter figures that he owes the man a more in-depth apology, one he’d rather give without the other eyes of the Avengers on them. Tony seems to know what Peter is getting at, taking his time wiping down the counter (even though there are people who do that for him) and lingering. Bucky is the last one left, watching Peter with muted, angry eyes. Protective. Tony brushes the super soldier off, waving him away.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says. His mouth is dry, his throat begs him to swallow but there’s no spit in his mouth. His knees are shaking. “I’m so sorry. For the glass, and for—for everything after. Nobody should treat you like that.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Tony says. His smile is easy and charming, cheeks fuller than usual with the way he is putting on weight in anticipation of his heat. Sometimes when Peter blinks, he still sees how Tony looked after the un-Dusting, thin and tired and scared half-to-death. But this Tony is an entirely different man, and all the more handsome for it. This morning, he isn’t wearing his glasses, and his eyes are so sleepy-sated. He’s still in sweatpants, and the feet poking from beneath the pant legs are bare, fine boned. So fucking cute. “Is there something bothering you? Some of the others have came to me with concerns. You’re acting out. Teenage rebellion finally catching up with you? Gonna slam some doors, tell me you hate me, vandalize public property?”

“I could never hate you, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. He can’t say those words without his throat clenching, voice dropping. Tony’s chest expands in a deep silent breath and the look he gives Peter is—strange.

He claps Peter on the shoulder, a brief burning touch, and then is moving away. “Love that for me, kid. I’ll see you—around.”

He disappears. Peter finds himself sniffing the air, but there is nothing except the lingering scent of breakfast foods. What else he was expecting, he doesn’t know.

-

“J.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get me some new biometrics on our Spider-Kid. Be subtle about it, too.”

“The human rights protocols that Ms. Potts demanded you install require me to inform you that performing any medical testing on an unaware subject is a direct violation of—”

“Yeah, yeah, skip reading me the riot act, J. I’m a bad, bad man. Get me those results ASAP, got it?”

“Performing them now, sir.”

-

Sundays are reserved for training, the only kind of worship most of the Avengers perform. At dawn, Peter is down in the gymnasium, wearing joggers and a clingy t-shirt. Today is supposed to be most perfunctory for him considering how hard he’s been pushing himself this week (harder than usual, maybe, he thinks, but it helps burn off some of the extra energy that has been blooming under his skin, making him itch). While the other Avengers practice hand-to-hand combat, he’ll probably be running on the treadmills.

Tony is there only for show, dressed in loungewear and drinking copious amounts of coffee. These days, he’s taking it with so much sugar and creamer that Peter can smell it on him even hours later, so sweet it makes his teeth ache. He’s only a week away from his heat, but the pheromones he’s producing make him more susceptible to physical attacks. Since these exercises are just for practice and not to hurt, he is sitting out.

“Hey, kid,” Tony mumbles, still sounding as tired as Peter feels. “You look dead on your feet. Coffee?”

He holds out his own mug. Peter hates coffee, but his body moves without consulting his higher faculties, reaching out to take the steaming cup. It actually doesn’t taste bad. Actually, it tastes pretty good—just how he imagines the inside of Tony’s mouth would taste, warm and so sweet and—

“Peter,” Tony asks. “What are you doing?”

Peter freezes—from where he is dragging his tongue along the rim of the cup, laving it over where Tony had his own mouth. His mouth goes dry, the taste of coffee turning sour in his mouth. He pulls the mug away from his mouth so quickly that he almost sloshes some out onto his trembling hands. Tony barely manages to grab the cup in time, looking much more alert (and frankly, a little alarmed).

“I—I have no idea. I’m sorry.”

“That’s—okay. It’s okay. It’s good stuff.”

Peter’s eyes go half lidded. “Yeah it is.”

Then (and Peter will never forget this, not as long as he lives. If he were in a terrible accident tomorrow that stole all of his memories, he’s sure that this one would still remain, burned in his brain), Tony puts the cup to his mouth and takes a long drink, mouth against where Peter’s tongue had trailed. All the blood in Peter’s body goes south. He feels electrocuted. A hand reaches out—his, that’s my hand, he thinks, though it’s so far away—and he presses his palm flat against Tony’s forehead, soft wisps of hair under his fingers, warm skin against his own. A shudder goes through him, and by the time he has dragged his wrist across Tony’s temple and down the side of his neck, stubble rasping against him, Peter is downright trembling, teeth clenched tight.

Tony sits like a statue under his touch, eyes wide as moons, all the blood drained from his face, and when Peter reaches the scent gland in his neck, he melts. He goes lax.

“Peter.”

When Peter turns, his teeth are clenched, lips pulled back. Captain America is standing there, and Peter can smell him, acrid.

“Stay back,” Peter barks.

“Is he—?” Natasha asks in the background, her voice high and soft with confusion.

Sam grabs her arm gently, pulling her away. “Presenting.”

There is a scuffle further away in the room, Clint holding back a trembling Bucky who is trying to get to his mate—but they are beta and omega, lesser threats. Peter pays them no mind.

Steve puts both of his hands up, the picture of calm, collected reassurance. “I’m not going to hurt you, Pete.”

“I’ll hurt you, old man,” Peter says. His voice isn’t his own, deeper and darker and scared—scared of this man, this Alpha. Peter’s omega is near and vulnerable, almost in heat. What other purpose could Steve have here except to try and separate them, try to take the omega for his own. That will never happen. His spine straightens. He is a head shorter and more than the other man, but they have fought before. Peter can take him. “Back. Off.”

Fingers wrap around Peter’s wrist, pulling it gently from his omega’s neck, and while Peter doesn’t want to take his eyes off of this dangerous alpha (no matter how non-threatening he looks), his omega is beckoning him. Peter turns and—it’s Tony. Tony. Tony.

Peter snatches his wrist back, all of his sanity coming back like cold water being poured over his head. The man is watching him, cautious, and the air is scented with fear and anxiety. This omega doesn’t need that, not so close to his heat—but this isn’t just an omega, this is Tony. Tony Stark. And here Peter is, rubbing himself all over the man like some sort of barbarian.

“Oh my god,” Peter slurs, stumbling backwards, wrist to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Peter,” Tony says. His mouth stays open but no other words come out: a true feat, for Tony to be at a loss for words. It gives Peter enough time to turn tail and run, no tact, just sprinting from the gym. The elevator is already opening—thank you, Jarvis—and Peter takes it directly up to the Avengers floor where he locks himself in his room and doesn’t exit for the rest of the day.

-

“I’ve rerun the scans twice now, sir. Peter Parker is an alpha. The blood work Doctor Banner performed on him this afternoon confirms it.”

“How, J? Alphas present at 14, 15—16 at the latest. Peter is eighteen years old. How did he go from beta to alpha overnight?”

“If I had to venture a guess, I would say that his altered DNA state has something to do with the late presentation. Some animalistic instincts are only triggered in the face of more base situations. More than likely, he has been an alpha all along, but until a suitable mate presented itself, his secondary gender remained dormant.”

“Are you saying I’m the suitable mate in this prime-time drama scenario?”

“I’ve never known you to sound so unhappy with a compliment, sir. Or are you fishing for more? I assure you that your hormone levels are ideal for your age, you are still fertile, and judging by the conversations I’ve overheard between Mr. Parker and his friends, he’s had romantic feelings for you for years, now.”

“Jesus, J! What happened to your privacy protocols?”

“Oh, am I not still ignoring those? My apologies, sir. In that case, Mr. Parker never talks about you at all, and they most certainly do not refer to you as Iron Daddy.”

“I swear to God JARVIS, I will wipe your programming and turn you into a glorified pocket planner—”

“If I have to overhear the phrase Iron Daddy one more time, I might be agreeable to it, sir.”

-

For the next few days, Peter moves around the tower like a ghost. Before he leaves any room, he asks JARVIS who is in the next one. That allows him to get from place to place without running in to Tony. It isn’t safe for Peter to be around him anymore—not after Peter practically assaulted him in front of the other Avengers. In a few days, Peter’s hormones will stabilize and then he’ll be more in control of himself.

Until then?

He deals. Alone. Trying to come to terms with his new secondary gender is more difficult than he expected. When he was younger, it was everyone’s dream to be an alpha or omega. Those genders were much rarer, sensationalized in the movies and books. Omegas and alphas could find True Love with each other. They had senses like super humans, exuding pheromones, being able to scent the air and tell a person’s mood.

Betas were average. Normal. Maybe he wanted to be an alpha or omega, but a part of him always suspected he would be a beta. When the years he should have presented in passed, he accepted it. Betas weren’t so bad, May told him. At least they didn’t have to deal with the mess of heats or ruts, they weren’t beholden to their biology.

Now, everything has changed.

Just the thought of the affect Tony had on him makes his whole face go red. God, how embarrassing. He practically rubbed himself all over the man, no better than an animal. Mr. Stark deserved better than that. He needed a mature partner, a mate who could keep their head even in the face of his hormones. They had words for alphas like Peter, ones who couldn’t control themselves—pups. Knotheads. It makes him burn with shame.

Some of the other Avengers come by to talk with him. Sam, Natasha, their neutral beta scents comforting. He spends some time with Bruce, an omega who used suppressants to neutralize his scent. Steve stays away, much to Peter’s thanks and shame. And Tony, too. To Peter’s complete agony. Sometimes he catches remnants of the man’s scent, and he has to struggle not to rub his face against the couch cushions, to scent them himself. What will his omega think, when he catches his alpha’s scent—only no. Tony isn’t his omega.

And Peter isn’t his alpha.

-

They let him meet Steve again first. The alpha hasn’t change physically, but it feels like Peter is seeing him through a whole new set of eyes. He smells of petrichor in the city, not very appealing. But alpha scents aren’t meant to appeal to other alphas. Does Tony like this smell, Peter wonders? When they hug, does Tony nuzzle into that thick chest and scent him?

The thought doesn’t fill Peter with the same rage it did a few days ago. Instead, it makes him sad.

“Hi Captain Rogers,” Peter says. “How are you?”

Steve smiles. “I’m great, Pete. It’s Steve, remember? Still Steve.”

Peter tries to smile back. “Steve.”

When Peter and Captain Rogers both come out of his room, the only other Avengers around are Natasha and Tony. Instinct has him inhaling—and God, Tony smells as good as Peter remembers. Coffee must be in his blood, sweet with creamer and raw sugar that would crunch under Peter’s molars and dissolve on his tongue. It’d be a dream to taste that scent from the source.

Peter shakes himself out of it. Those are the kinds of thoughts that got him in trouble in the first place. He can feel how tense the room is while he carefully approaches the omega. In Tony’s benefit, he looks relaxed, lounging on the sofa. In this position, his gently rounded stomach is clear underneath his band t-shirt and it makes Peter’s mouth water. He wills away his boner—because now, alphas like Steve and omegas like Tony will be able to smell his arousal.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter says in a soft, cracking voice. “A-Are you okay?”

Tony smiles, gentle, so tender. “Peachy, kid. Just peachy.”

-

Tony’s body starts purging three days before his heat, and everyone in the tower knows it. Peter knows too, and not just because he can smell it, ripening like strawberries in sugar, but because Tony stops eating altogether. Mealtimes he spends pushing food around his plate, forcing himself to sip at his sweating glass of ice water. His body is clearing itself out, priming itself for mating. Bruce encourages him to eat what he can, but Tony just snaps at his mothering, face green. No one needs to openly state that this pre-heat seems worse than usual.

It hurts to see Tony not eating, but Peter sits on his hands and bites his fucking tongue and turns away and doesn’t say a thing because it isn’t his fucking business to command the omega. Tony is more than his designation. He’s a fucking human being, and Peter is going to respect him and his wishes, even if he’d rather see the man stuff himself, belly rounded, preferably with Peter’s—

“Bathroom,” Peter mutters, standing jerkily from the table. No one notices his quick escape. In the small, tiled room, his own scent rebounds off the walls and suffocates him, arousal, sharp, pining, sickly. Peter splashes cool water over his face, resolute in his decision not to jerk off. He hasn’t cum since before his presentation, is too afraid of how it might be different, too afraid of the knot that is likely to bloom at the base of his cock (which has grown, to Peter’s horror and delight).

Once he feels less likely to pop a boner at the dinner table, he flushes perfunctorily and leaves the bathroom—only to run directly into Tony who pushes past him.

“Sorry kid, got to yack,” he mutters. But then everything about him freezes. Peter sees his own scent, concentrated from his time in the bathroom as it washes over the omega. Tony shudders, eyes rolling. The sound that leaves his mouth can be described as nothing short of a whimper. The green tinge of nausea is replaced with the flush of his own arousal, and Peter can smell it, so good that it hurts, makes him harder than he’s ever been in his life, and this is his omega, his omega who is approaching heat and needs him—

But he is more than that to Peter, too.

Using all his restraint, Peter reaches out for the bathroom door handle and slams the door shut. He hears the soft thud of Tony’s body on the other side, like he has slumped against it. A low groan, muted by the oak.

Peter turns and goes to his room without an explanation, dinner plate still half-full.

-

“JARVIS…”

“I’m here, sir.”

“Protocol Fuck or Die. Who is on my consent list?”

“Just Captain Rogers, sir.”

“Add Peter.”

“Shall I alert him—”

“No—just. I doubt my heat will be bad enough to require an alpha’s—ah—special support, but. Better safe than sorry.”

“As you wish, sir.”

“Oh, and J? Let’s go ahead and make an addendum…”

-

Less than two days later, Tony leaves his bedroom on the Avengers’ floor and goes up to the penthouse. The door locks behind him, and Peter comforts himself with that fact. The man is safe. No one can get in without JARVIS’s say so, and the AI values Tony’s safety above all else. Even if he suffers while he’s there (and that thought alone makes Peter ache in his chest, desperate to help), at least he is safe.

Two days in, a situation across the country calls for some of the Avengers, and Steve, Bucky, Nat and Clint all pack up to head out. They don’t ask Peter to come with them, and the young alpha doesn’t offer—though he hardly knows why. Nat tucks him under her arm and presses a kiss to his forehead when he wishes them safe travels, and please let me know if you need backup.

She smiles, soft. “I think you’re needed here, Pete.”

Peter has no idea what to make of that, and no idea how right she is.

-

“Mister Parker.”

Peter wakes from a restless sleep, sitting straight up in his bed. The room is absolutely dark—the only way he can sleep with his sensitivity issues—but Peter knows that the voice didn’t come from anyone in the room. It came from above. Heart in his throat, he croaks out an affirmation, fearing the worst. Something has gone wrong on the mission with Steve and the others. They are hurt, or worse, dead. Maybe there’s another emergency, this time in New York, and Peter and Sam and Bruce will have to deal with it alone—

“I need you to go directly to the penthouse, and with haste.”

“Penthouse? That’s—that’s off limits. Mr. Stark—”

“Mister Stark’s temperature is reaching dangerous levels, and he is no longer responding to my questions. He requires immediate attention. Do not bother dressing—go straight there.”

Peter rolls out of bed. This is worse than the Avengers being hurt. So much worse. His hands shake as he leaves his room wearing nothing but boxer shorts (do not bother dressing or not, Peter wasn’t going to walk around naked). The lounge is empty and ghostly, moonlight streaming in from the windows and turning every shadow into a monster. Peter has bigger fears now, though.

“It’s his heat?”

“Yes—”

“—and what exactly—I mean, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Now is not the time for me to give you the birds and the bees talk, Mister Parker—”

Peter blanches. The elevator is waiting for him as he steps inside, feels the pull of gravity as he quickly ascends, his hears popping at the change in altitude. “JARVIS, you don’t understand—Mr. Stark, h-he can’t consent during a heat. I would be—it would be—”

“You have his consent. Based on protocol Fuck or Die—”

“I’m sorry what?”

“It’s not uncommon for older omegas to suffer serious health issues while suffering through heats alone and unsuppressed. In the event that an alpha is absolutely required, Mister Stark has a list of preapproved alphas who have his complete consent to bond with him. On such a list is Captain Rogers and, as of earlier this week, yourself.”

Peter gapes. His head spins. Mr. Stark—lists of consent—Peter?

“If it makes you feel better,” JARVIS says. “Had Captain Rogers been here, I would have asked him first.”

The elevator opens, and Peter steps out into the hallway that leads to the penthouse. His stomach is in knots, a tangle of Medusa’s snakes that wriggle and threaten to turn him to stone. His knees are shaking, knocking together in fear that is so potent it’s comical. This is his greatest dream come true (though certainly not happening in the way he had anticipated) but suddenly it is his deepest fear.

“No offense, Mr. JARVIS, but in what world would that make me feel better?” Peter asks, his sweating palm on the doorknob to the penthouse.

“We can debate it another time when Mister Stark isn’t at risk of a febrile seizure.”

The door clicks, lock opening. Steeling himself, Peter opens the door and steps inside.

-

The smell intense: cinnamon rolls, ground coffee beans, caramel sauce so sweet it’s just on the verge of burning. It is right out of Peter’s wet dreams, his cock rushing to fill itself so that it will be useful to the omega in need. The penthouse is a mess when Peter scans it: furniture knocked over, a glass of water shattered on the tiles of the foyer, though the water has nearly evaporated now. Everything is quiet and still. It should be eerie.

But suddenly it isn’t. A change comes over him, a rush of hormones that not only fill his cock but clear his head. It’s like everything he sees is in greater detail, sharp focus, all of his senses on high alert. There are no more nerves, and Peter is filled with the overwhelming confidence that he knows what he’s doing.

“The bedroom, Mister Parker. Quickly, please.”

Peter moves with purpose, ignoring his cock. The bedroom door is only cracked, and he reaches out with a firm hand to push it open the rest of the way.

Tony has taken up residence on the floor beside the bed. The sheets are dragged off of it as if Tony had struggled to pull himself up and lost the strength, choosing instead to curl up around his aching abdomen. Peter gathers all of the strength and calm inside of himself, works to exude it in his very scent (a thing he’s mostly unfamiliar with, but which is apparently a skill akin to wiggling his ears, which he can also do, thanks very much).

Naked, Peter is privy to every inch of tanned skin, the gentle smattering of hair on Tony’s legs, sparser at his thighs. There are no hairs on his chest thanks to the mass of scar tissue where the arc reactor used to be, smooth, pink skin that will never grow hair again. All his skin is covered in sweat, slick and glowing under the dim lights. Then, Tony’s eyes open, nostrils flaring. He turns his head towards where Peter stands in the doorway, teeth chattering from his fever, and the look on his face is pure relief.

“Alpha,” he says, stuttering through his chills.

Peter hushes him, kneeling down to drag the man into his arms. The omega groans in pain when he’s no longer curled around his aching stomach, but then buries his nose in Peter’s neck, hot breath brushing his skin and making goosebumps rise all over Peter. Tony sighs in relief, wrapping himself around the kneeling alpha. Peter can feel Tony’s cock—small, but hard and leaking—pressing against his hip. Pooled on the older man’s abdominals is cum, drying and tacky.

“I recommend a tepid shower, Mister Parker.”

“Start it,” Peter says through his teeth. He shifts up onto one knee, bracing himself so that he can support the larger man’s weight. Tony is mouth at his neck, hips rutting desperately. Peter puts a hand on the man’s lower back and guides him, encourages him, words pouring out of his mouth that he can barely hear over the blood rushing in his ears. “Come on, Mr. Stark, please Mr. Stark, you need to cum. Can you cum like this? Will you try, for me? Now, Omega, now if you can at all—”

Tony shudders, cum splattering Peter’s bare stomach. It burns—every point of contact with the man burns, thanks to the fever.

“God,” Peter groans, throat convulsing. “That was amazing. So good, Mr. Stark, Jesus, that was incredible—”

In the bathroom, the shower is running, cool enough to not create any steam. Peter grits his teeth, hating cold showers, but knowing that his omega needs it. A fever isn’t good for his omega’s brain, and at least the water isn’t cold. That might shock Tony’s system and do more harm than good. Without even stopping to shuck his boxers, Peter slides open the glass shower door and ushers them both inside. When the spray hits him, the omega whines, shrinking away.

“Stay,” Peter says firmly. Tony goes slack, suggestible.

He leaves the front of Tony’s body in the cool spray and stands on his toes to bury his nose in the omega’s neck, scenting him, scraping together every good warm safe happy feeling inside of himself. Tony’s head goes lax, leaning back, water dripping down his throat. The young alpha licks a line up his throat and to the shell of his ear. Such a thing would be weird any other time, but now it’s like there’s a part inside of him that urges him to do it, to leave his mouth on the man and never lift it.

“Peter?” he slurs.

Peter jolts. If Tony is more conscious and aware, that seems like a promising sign. “JARVIS called for me. You’re safe, Mr. Stark,” he says. “I promise.”

Tony smiles, a soft breath coming out almost like a laugh. “I know,” he murmurs. “Jesus, kid, I’m cold.”

“You’re feverish,” Peter says. “JARVIS? Can you tell Mr. Stark’s temperature?”

“It is a toasty 101.7 degrees Fahrenheit, Mister Parker, which is an improvement. I believe a decent bonding session would have a similar therapeutic effect, if the shower isn’t comfortable. And sir, may I say that it’s nice to see you stringing together a full sentence.”

Tony snorts. His voice is weak, but no less snarky. “Thanks, J. Can we get out, Pete? I haven’t taken cold showers since I was fifteen years old.”

“If we get out,” Peter says. “We’ll have to—to bond.”

“Is that—you don’t want that?”

“I do, God, Jesus, yes I do—”

Now Tony does laugh, even as his eyes slip closed in exhaustion. It is likely that without proper care, he has barely slept since his heat started in earnest three days ago. The instincts inside of Peter stir: his omega needs fucked and then he needs rest.

As soon as the cool water is off, Tony is back to stumbling, doubled over in pain, an arm curled around his tender midsection. The cramps come and go while Peter does his best to dry them off, but their hair is still dripping when he can’t take the sounds of pain anymore and guides Tony back to the bedroom. There is nothing on the bed but a fitted sheet, soft as silk, and Tony crawls onto it without prompting.

He sinks immediately into lordosis, ass up, spine curved as he presents himself, forehead pressed to the bed and chest doing its best to follow. This is pornography come to life, Peter thinks. He can see Tony’s hole, wet and dripping. Between his legs are his balls, red and aching, but it’s that hole that makes his fingers ache, that has him reaching out to press a thumb against the rim.

Tony chokes, hips jerking backwards until Peter sinks in to the first knuckle. Tony is loose and pliant, perfect for taking an alpha’s cock and knot.

“Please,” Tony groans into the mattress, shaking all over. “’t hurts, Pete. Please. Inside.”

Peter pulls his thumb free, kneels up onto the bed to shuffle closer, and then sinks two gentle fingers in, slow until they’re swallowed to the hilt. He has to close his eyes, cock aching, knot already throbbing at the base. Inside, Tony is like liquid silk, hot and wet and clinging to his fingers, the internal muscles squeezing and desperate for more to hold on to. The noise Tony lets out is pure sex, a long moan that ends higher and breathier than he’s ever heard the man.

Slowly, Peter pulls his fingers out to the tip—and god, the slide, the wet friction is just as intoxicating, eyes rolling in his skull, blinded to everything but the desperate omega in front of him—before pressing back in. He twists them, circles his hands, crooks them until he finds that spot, the rough bump inside. Tony keens, body spasming as his fists clench at the sheets, his cock spurting. Around his fingers, Tony’s ass flutters. But he needs more. Peter knows.

Soaked boxers abandoned in the bathroom, Peter’s cock is free to dribble and ache, only inches from where it longs to harbor. Brief anxiety has his hand trembling when he reaches down to run a gentle fist from tip down to root. This is the first time he’s touched his cock since he presented—but it feels the same really. Except for the base, where there is a bump, so sensitive that he whines when he runs a curious thumb over it. God, how will that feel inside Tony? Peter can’t even imagine.

Withdrawing his fingers, the omega cries out, hips jerking backwards, desperate to keep the connection. Peter soothes him with a hand on his back, urging him to relax back into the bedspread while Peter kneels up behind him. Their similar heights make this easy—all the important bits are at the perfect levels.

Taking a deep breath, Peter guides the head of his cock to the wet hole. The first touch has him whining, shaking, and if it weren’t for the firm hand on Tony’s back, the omega would likely have taken him to the root by now with the way he is thrusting back, trying to fuck himself on the tip alone. It’s now or never, Peter tells himself. Pressing forward, he sinks in until he can’t anymore. It takes every bit of restraint not to cum immediately, popping his knot in the tightest, wettest, most pleasurable heat he’s ever known. Beneath him, Tony sounds like he’s dying in the best way, groaning.

“Please, alpha, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—”

Everything in him wants to give this man what he needs, so with singular focus, Peter pulls back his hips and lets them snap forward. Tony howls, his elbows bending so that he can grab fistfuls of his hair and pull. Peter lets his instincts do the work, trusts his body to know what is best for himself and his omega, fucking into that tight heat in desperation. The best part of every thrust is bottoming out, the brief pressure of Tony’s fluttering rim around Peter’s blossoming knot, so sensitive it makes him shiver.

“God, Mr. Stark,” Peter pants. The words are torn from his chest: “My omega.”

“Yes, yes, yours, take it, take me,” Tony says, every word punctuated by a hitch in his breath as Peter thrusts in. “Alpha—let me cum, please—”

“Yes,” Peter groans. “You need it, please. Please cum for me.”

Tony cries out, entire body stiffening and going still beneath him—every part of him except for his small cock, spurting weakly and the tight heat around Peter’s cock that flutters, squeezing, choking the life out of him. Peter desperately wants to bring Tony to another orgasm, figuring that the better sated he is, the quicker his fever will fall. But the sounds, the smells, the unbearable pressure around his cock is too much. He can feel it building inside him, balls tightening, knot beginning to swell. There’s no way he can stop it—and Tony needs this too. Needs a knot, for his body to fight the biological havoc his hormones are wreaking on it.

So Peter chases it, fucking Tony right through his orgasm. Every time the knot catches on the rim, Peter thinks this is it, this is it, there’s no way I can push into him, or there’s no way I can pull it out of him, but he does, both of their bodies capable of so much more than he ever knew. Then it hits. Peter shoves the knot past the rim, shrieking as his balls spasm, cum spurting into the omega. Beneath him, Tony shouts something unintelligible, and maybe he cums again, but Peter can’t tell. The world goes white. Nothing exists except for the tight channel around his cock, the rim that’s squeezing his knot, coaxing more and more cum from him.

But one thought comes, strikes him like a lightning bolt straight from Thor’s hammer: bite. His teeth ache down to the roots with as tightly as he clenches them together, mouth watering, desperate to clamp his jaws on that raised spot on Tony’s neck. Break skin. Mate. The urge becomes overwhelming, no way that he can stop it—but instead he turns and bites into the meat of his bicep, breaking skin until blood floods his mouth.

When it finally ends, they are stuck together. Shaking from exertion, Peter still reaches out to help Tony collapse properly onto the bed, then he guides them both onto their sides, his stomach pressed flush against Tony’s back. The omega is shaking all over, so Peter runs his hands over every bit of skin he can, murmuring words of praise, God Mr. Stark, you’re perfect. That was the most amazing thing, thank you so much, thank you.

By the time his knot deflates enough for him to pull out without hurting Tony (and it’s an inordinate amount of time later, Peter things, probably considering it was his first ever knot popped), the bite on his arm has healed. He must still look like a sight, he thinks, mouth covered in flaking, dried blood. Tony is soft and sated when he rolls onto his back, and the only indication he gives that the blood on Peter startles him is a few gentle blinks, like his eyes are blurry and he needs to clear them.

“I almost bit you,” Peter says. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony smiles, eyes already slipping closed. He worms one arm beneath the pillow under his head and lets his eyes shut completely. “Go ahead,” he mumbles. “’m going t’ sleep now.”

Peter smooths the hair out of his face. His chest feels tight, full up with love and longing and absolute adoration. This has been beyond Peter’s wildest dreams: mating Tony, bonding with him for good and not just for now? That is something that Peter can’t even let himself imagine. It’s a pipe dream, a hazy, unclear fantasy. Beside him, Tony is already asleep. The man snores—wait until Ned finds out.

“Mister Stark’s temperature is returning to normal boundaries, I am happy to report.”

Peter breathes a sigh of relief. He barely knew how much tension was in him until he heard those words, until he knew that Tony would be okay. His body relaxes, experiencing a peace he has never before known. Here, with this man he loves more than anything, knowing they are safe and that Tony is content. “Thank you, JARVIS. I’m glad you woke me.”

“As am I. Mister Parker, I believe there is one other matter that I must bring to your attention.”

“What is it?”

“It is another protocol that Mister Stark put in place. A list he created exclusively for you.”

-

It is a week later before Tony is well enough to leave his penthouse. The man has lost all the weight he put on and more, even as Peter’s constant insistence that he eat whenever he could stomach it. Despite the copious amounts on incredible sex they shared, Peter can’t help but be glad that Tony’s heats only come twice a year. Any more than that might genuinely kill the man, his legs shaking, leaning on Peter as they enter the Avengers living area.

General cries of greeting and joy rise up around the floor. Steve pulls the man into a hug before he thinks otherwise, his eyes finding Peter’s over the omega’s shoulder. But Peter isn’t jealous, just watches with a happy, soft smile. He sees the exact moment that Steve breathes in and smells the change in the omega’s scent, and Peter knows the look on his face must be that of the sorest winner, smug, and unbearably in love.

Steve pulls back and gently tugs at the collar of Tony’s shirt, exposing just the smallest hint of the healing mating bite. Peter’s own has already healed.

Bucky can’t help but frown from where he stands behind Steve. His eyes flash hot like coals, accusatory, pinning Peter in place. “You mated him? He was in heat.”

Tony waves a hand. “We had a sort of—withstanding agreement. Didn’t we, J?”

“That you did, sir. I would not let anything untoward happen to Mister Stark under my watch.”

“Hear that?” Tony asks, stalking to the refrigerator. “I have protocols in place for every possible sequence of events, and giving hot young alphas the consent to mate me for life is a very advantageous outcome, if I do say so myself. Hey—fruit goes on the top shelf, heathens, not in the drawer. I’m out of commission for two weeks and this is what happens—”

“You have, what, procedures in place? For every possible sequence of events?” Bucky asks, his arms crossed.

Tony reappears from the refrigerator, a take-out contained in his hands. He cracks it open, Styrofoam screeching, to appraise the insides. Whatever is there must please him, because he bumps the door closed with one hip and goes for a fork. “Huh?” he asks, scooping out strands of angel hair pasta. “Oh. Yeah—I do. By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.”

“Who said that?” Natasha asks. “Was that Franklin?”

“What, it wasn’t me?” Tony asks.

“Wait, I want to hear more about these procedures, especially any that involve me,” Bucky asks. They all gravitate around the counter, leaning against the marble. Peter can’t help but feel that the turmoil of the last month has ended and now things are—not normal. But better than normal. His family, his pack, they are stronger than ever.

“I could tell you, snowflake,” Tony says around a mouth of pasta. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

-

tag list: (and I know I’m missing so many of you right now, I’m sorry, I’ll work on it, feel free to continue to let me know if you want to be tagged or would rather not be. @shinycreatoroafbonk @sadbumblingmess @parkerslutt @css1992 @starkerotic @rogerthat-captain @prettyboy-parker @onemadeofglass @kirtthana @deliciousflapbanditfarm @kiaorauniverse @loki-iwanttobeking @parleroumourirr @bizzlepotter @von--gelmini 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Two

Table of Content or Part Forty-One

Read here on Wattpad

Words: 3.6k

Warning(s): Explicit language, explicit sexual situations, miscarriage

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I had miscarried a week before the four month mark, and despite the large amount of stress I was under, I was told my body showed signs of preparing to discard the pregnancy, anyway, and it was estimated there hadn't been a heartbeat for almost a week prior.

I planned on telling Nikki before my stomach grew to an obvious size, but I managed to keep it under the radar and it just looked like I was gaining some weight.

Andy had taken me, in and out at consciousness, to the hospital after Nikki's blue color started to miraculously subside and he decided it was better to keep the freshly overdosed heroin junkie away from anyone who could notify authorities.

A D&C was performed, I was given hospital-issued pajama pants since I wasnt wearing any, told not to use tampons, insert anything into my vagina or have sex for two weeks, and I was sent on my way.

"I-I heard the nurse say something about a failed pregnancy." Andy tells me, hesitantly, as we head back to the apartment to see if Nikki's still there.

"They thought it might have been one, but I told them I wasn't pregnant and they decided it was a serious spell of period cramping." I reply.

"You don't fucking pass out from a period cramp, Vivian."

"I passed out because I was in shock from Nikki being blue." I argue.

"That was a lot of blood to be--"

"Andy, until you have a uterus that sheds once a month, you don't get to make the rules as to what's a normal amount of period blood and what isn't." I cut him short and he sighs out.

"Got it, Viv."

When we get back to the apartment, it's empty.

The Rat is gone, and Nikki's gone.

"Do you think he's back at the hotel?" Andy asks me and I pray in my mind he is.

"Maybe he is." I tell him.

I have to give it to Andy, he managed to get Nikki breathing again while simultaneously trying to get me to regain consciousness...all while on heroin himself.

Vince killed his drummer, and he still saved Vince's bassist.

I get back to the hotel, Doc interrogating the front desk, demanding to know where I went and if she's seen me recently.

"Doc, chill out." I tell him, rubbing my eyes and he sees me and relief washes over him.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" He shouts at me. "I was about to call the cops, Vivian!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I just had to go to the doctor for lady issues." I tell him and he looks at me like I've lost my mind, looks at Andy and throws his hands up.

"All you kids are fucking impossible, holy shit!" He calls out, stepping to the elevator.

I turn to Andy, smiling tiredly up at him.

"Thank you for helping Nikki." I tell him.

"I'd do it ten times over, Viv." He replies.

I try my hardest to memorize him, snapping a mental picture of his soft smile, his liner smudged eyes, his clothes...preparing for this being the last time I ever see him, because at the rate he's going, he'll be dead in a couple years.

Tears blur my vision, but never break over my lashes, and I hug him to me.

"Take care of yourself." I tell him calmly. "Please."

"Oh, I'll be fine." He replies, squeezing me back.

When we pull away, his hands hold at either side of my face.

"Keep your head clear." He tells me one last time and I nod.

To this day I still hear him in my mind when I'm overwhelmed.

"Keep your head clear."

I get up to the room to pack, thinking of what the hell to say to Nikki.

He's getting out of the shower when I get in, bruises covering him from where he was hit with the bat, and his chest is bruised from CPR.

I decide not to say anything, ignoring him when he tries to talk to me.

"Baby." He states, realizing I'm purposely ignoring him.

I just fold my dirty clothes up and put them in my bag.

"Vivian." He tries again. "I really don't need you to be pissed at me about this, Viv."

Again, I don't say a word.

I try to head to the bathroom before he's grabbing at my arm, stopping me.

"I over did it, I know I did. I'm sorry, alright? Just please talk to me."

"I'm going back home." I tell him and he looks shocked before his face suddenly scrunches up.

"What?"

"I am going back to L.A." I repeat.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not hanging around to see you pick up where you left off before you nearly died, Nikki, and I know that the second we get to the next city, you'll be pinpointing a dealer as soon as possible." I state.

"I--Viv, I made a mistake, I understand that I made a bad call." He tries to reason with me before snatching my shirt out of my hand before I can pack it. "Will you listen to me?"

"Why? You never listen to me." I hiss at him and his eyes glass over in tears.

Instead of yelling at me, or arguing, he puts my shirt in my bag for me, and helps me pack the rest of my stuff before he gets dressed and gets his own stuff together. "I just want to go home." I finally tell him, feeling a little guilty for being mean to him after what happened to him.

"I know." He says lowly, sitting next to me on the bed. "I just don't want you to."

"I'll only be a phone call away, and the tour will be over in less than a month and you'll be back in no time." I point out.

"Yeah, I guess." He replies.

"Just, please, be careful." I plead, grabbing his hand.

He looks at me and nods a little.

"I will, Viv. I promise." He assures me.

It was bullshit. Two days after that, he was hanging out with Tommy, Rodger Taylor and Robin Zander, at dinner and when lines of power rails of coke were offered to them, Nikki snorted all of it on his own.

But I wasn't worried about Nikki. I prayed for him before I left London and that was that.

I bombard Steven when I see him by Duff's car in the parking lot, wrapping my arms around him tightly, nearly crying tears of joy.

"Have you gotten taller?" I tease, ruffling his fluffy blonde hair.

"Nah, maybe you're getting shorter." He replies as I put my bag in the trunk.

"Short-stop." I shoot at him.

"Firecrotch." He replies without missing a beat and I can't help but laugh.

"You've been hanging around Izzy too much." I point out, getting into the car.

When we get to their apartment, I set my bag on floor by the door and look around at the shithole it is.

"The guys are out, I'm about to go see if I can find 'em if you wanna come." Stevie offers.

I shake my head a little, already knowing how I want to spend my night.

"No, thank you, just wanna shower and get settled." I explain, and he nods.

"You're gonna have to air dry because we don't have towels, and we don't have hot water." He adds. "Also, pee in the shower if you gotta pee because we don't have a toilet anymore."

"What about if I need to do the other?" I ask him and he rubs his lips together.

"We usually just do that in our friend's apartment down the hall. Apartment 205." He informs me and I raise my brows but don't say a word.

"Got it." I reply.

"Alright, well, I'm out." He tells me.

"Okay, see you later tonight." I reply, shutting the door behind him.

I turn to face the mess that is their apartment and I take a breath and get started.

I'm just getting out of the shower by the time I hear the front door open and close, and I hold my arms over my chest and peak my head out of the bathroom, seeing Duff's lanky frame in the kitchen, the only light is from the small lamp on the floor in the living room.

"Hey." I tell him, and he turns around, brows raised.

"Oh, shit, hey." He chuckles off his startledness. "Are you done with your shower?" He asks and I nod.

He's stepping to me, his hand holding out a cheap towel.

"Steven said you were crashing here tonight so I went and got some things...I knew you'd appreciate a towel." He tells me and I chuckle, grateful for his consideration as I step back into the bathroom to wrap up in the towel and step back out to my bag to get pajamas. "I got some shitty sheets for that mattress." He motions to the one bedroom. "And a blanket because we don't have any."

"How do you guys stay warm then?" I ask and he shrugs.

"We usually go home with girls who have blankets." He chuckles and I shake my head a little. "At least they do. Anymore I come back and crash here." He adds. "Also, thank you for cleaning." He notices the much more organized and clean apartment I'd been working on ever since Steven left three hours ago. "Which brings me to my last purchase I know you would need." He puts a can of disinfectant spray on the counter next to the blanket and sheets and I can't hold back to laugh that comes when I see it. "I suggest using the whole can."

"I'm planning on it don't worry." I chuckle as he takes can of spray and the sheets into the bedroom.

I'm assuming to spray down the mattress and put the sheets on.

I dry off and towel dry my hair before slipping on a pair of pajama shorts and a Crüe band tshirt.

Once I'm done in the bathroom, I see Duff sitting on the couch with his bass and I sit beside him as he goofs off with it for a couple minutes before I point to a note his finger is on.

"What's that?" I ask him, curiously.

"J." He tells me and I furrow my brows a little.

"There's a 'J' note on bass?" I ask and he nods, his expression serious for a moment before he cracks into a smile. "Duff, I'm serious." I push at his shoulder lightly and he chuckles.

"I don't know what note it is." He tells me.

"Bullcrap." I state.

"I'm being serious. I don't know a single name of any of the notes."

"You play by ear?!"

"Yep."

"Why?!"

"I just wanted to play bass. I didn't want to learn it step by step. It's obviously working out for me the way I do it now, so." He shrugs. "Is that not what Nikki does?"

"Yeah...but he's Nikki I don't expect him to know all of it. He sticks to the same template of decently easy notes in every song anyway because he's too fucked up to remember anything elaborate." I tell him and he chokes a little, looking at me.

"That's mean." He points at me.

I think about it for a second and sigh out.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm just tired and moody I guess." I mumble, running a hand through my hair.

"Do you need to go to bed?" He asks me.

"Probably." I admit, seeing it's 1:17am on their crooked wall clock, standing up and stretching.

I look towards the bedroom, then to Duff and back to the bedroom before sitting back down.

"What is it?" He asks me.

"I'll just chill here with you for a few more minutes." I tell him.

"Okay."

I lay down, my legs curling to my chest as the top of my head brushes against the side of his thigh, my eyes closing.

I'm probably asleep for another hour before I'm being woken up.

"Viv." Duff slowly shakes me awake and I groan a little, blinking up at him.

"C'mon, I'm helping you to bed." He tells me and I nod sleepily, taking his hands as he helps me up.

I'm half asleep when I fall to the matress on the floor and he chuckles at me grabbing the blanket to cover me up.

"You good?" He asks me after covering me up and I nod. "Okay, I'm crashing on the couch if you need anything."

"Sleep in here." I tell him, rubbing the sleep from my eyes in an attempt to wake myself up a little.

It's obvious he's thinking really hard about the invitation.

"Please?" I ask. "I don't like sleeping alone."

He thinks about it for a moment longer before getting his boots off, laying down beside me as far away as possible, not even taking his jacket off.

"Goodnight, Viv." He says.

"Goodnight." I barely mumble back.

This is where the very strict "friends" line that separated Duff and I began to slowly blur, and I despised myself for it.

I'm tired, but I can't bring myself to sleep, turning to face Duff.

I wonder if he's asleep.

"Duff?" I whisper.

"Hmm?" He replies.

He's laying on his back with an arm tucked behind his head, the other across his abdomen.

I think about how he kissed me, and how did it like he meant it, openly and honestly, and I freaked out over it.

And why?

Because of Nikki?

I remember the reminiscent feeling I got with Duff, when he made his drunk move, mirrored how I felt when Nikki first made his five years ago.

My eyes go back to the blonde beside me, the temptation to either scare him away or draw him in more is pulling at me strong.

"Take your jacket off." I say to him lowly and he looks at me in the dark of the room, the only sliver of light coming from the neon glowing lights of the strip.

"Viv." He says it like he knows what I'm thinking he's begging me not to because he couldn't possibly resist.

I sit up getting on my knees, pulling my tshirt over my head and discarding it.

"Shit." He mumbles to himself, sighing out as I crawl to him.

All it takes is my leg swinging over his hips to straddle him and he's caving.

He doesn't dare make a move to touch me, probably trying to decide if this is real or not, until I'm pressing my lips against his, moaning softly as my nipples gently rub against the fabric of his clothes.

My hands grab either side of his unzipped jacket, pulling him up to a sitting position, pushing the leather from him, he discards the jacket across the room and my hands run down his arms to his wrists to guide his hands to my hips as I slowly start rocking against his groin as my forehead rests against his, my breath catching in my throat as pleasure sparks through me.

"Fuck, Viv..." he breaths out, finger tips lightly pressing into the flesh of my hips.

Pull up on the bottom of his shirt, leaning into him when it's off, feeling his skin against mine as our lips meet once more before I'm running my tongue along his bottom lip to give him the hint.

His hands move to my ass, guiding the slow, needy movements of the junction of my thighs against the hardness in his pants.

Our tongues tangle together as he moves one of his hands up to run his thumb against my nipple.

I whimper, the ache in my core growing stronger as he gets comfortable and shifts from being shy and acting like he doesn't know what to do, to complete dominance, pushing me onto my back, my hair hanging off the foot of the bed.

He takes his pants off as I pull at my shorts, rubbing my thighs together, looking up at him as he gives me a happy smile, pressing his lips to my ankle, working his way up inch by inch, worshipping me with each caress, each kiss, each move.

He's running his tongue against my clit, eliciting another moan from me, my back arching as my hands fall into his blonde hair.

When he hits a certain spot, I gasp, my eyes nearly watering.

"Right there, please, Duff." I quietly whine out a beg.

He listens, continuing to move his tongue against me, causing me to resort to shallow breaths as pleasure builds.

One of his hands goes to my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, only encouraging me to grind into his face with his slow, savoring, pace.

I'm coming before realizing it, my toes curling, his name catching in my throat as I arch my back.

He looks like he's about to go back for seconds but I'm sitting up and pulling his lips to mine before taking my hand and wrapping it around his prick.

The thought of it inside of me sends me into overdrive and he groans out as I run my thumb over his tip, my thigh hooking around him as my legs spread, wanting him inside of me.

I fall back on the matress taking him with me as our lips stay locked, and both of his hands are on either side of my head as we break our kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks me. "I mean really sure. I don't want to hurt you, Viv, I--"

I cut him short, giving him reassuring kiss before looking up at him again.

He nods, as if convincing himself to disrespect Nikki and our marriage as he jerks himself off a couple of times before placing his head at my entrance.

He slowly pushes himself in, and by the time he's in as far as my body has room for him to be in, he's grasping the blanket we're on, under his hands, obviously trying to keep his control.

"Are you okay?" He asks me, giving me time to adjust to him.

I don't answer, my hands pushing at his sides to get him to pullout of me, and he thinks I want him off of me, nearly moving completely out of me before I'm wrapping my legs around him, causing him to push back into me.

The feeling forces a loud, wanton, nearly pornish sound from me and he realizes I want him to keep going.

He smiles to me, kissing me again while pulling out and thrusting back into me, gently.

"Duff," I start, breathing out.

"Y-Yeah?" He asks, stopping suddenly.

"I'm not gonna break." I tell him with a shy smile as a subtle hint to screw me into the mattress.

He's chuckling a little, loosening up, before thrusting into me a little faster, rougher, and harder.

"Fuck, Duff!" I can't control myself, my nails screaming against the skin of his back as his length moves inside of me addictively.

He repeatedly hits against my tender cervix, and the thought of him finishing inside of me is fucking crazy but nearly primal.

"You feel so fucking good." He tells me, his cigarettes laced breath adding to the comfort of him pulling pressing his body against mine, taking my lower lip between his teeth.

My fingers curl into his blonde hair, my nipples aggressively move against him with his desperate pace.

"I'm gonna come." I tell him, my eyes closing, my lips slightly opened as tremors course through me.

I cry out so loudly he has to put his hand over my mouth incase any of the guys are home.

Tears roll down my face as he picks up the pace, chasing after his high with my legs locked around him.

"I love you." He tells me, his lips brushing against mine.

"I love you, too." I say back, my hand going between my legs to play with my clit to try have another hit before he finishes.

His hand is moving mine out of the way and rubbing at me far better than I can in my love-high state.

More of my juices flood onto him as my brain fills with more endorphins, my eyes heavy with a floating high.

"I'm about to come." He tells me.

"Come in me." I tell him, hazily, not thinking clearly.

"Viv, I--"

"Please, I wanna feel it, Duff. I wanna feel you." I beg, arching into him, pulling his hips into mine with my thighs.

He doesn't argue, cursing out as streams of his cum pump into me.

He doesn't get off of me until he's finished, the both of us laying in silence as nausea forces it's way through me.

I'm sitting up, throwing up, my body sweating and my face soaked with tears.

I realize I'm throwing up on the living room's stained carpet as Duff startles awake from where he fell asleep beside me on the couch.

Izzy's passed out on the floor on the other side of the coffee table and I look at the clock to see it's 5:00am.

"Viv, are you alright?" Duff asks me, but all I hear in the sound of his voice is the terrifying idea that I just dreamt up an entire fantasy about him that seems so unbelievably realistic, that if he weren't still fully dressed, jacket and boots included, I would swear it actually happened.

My heart sinks to my stomach.

I need Nikki.

It was one hell of a foreshadow.