#he is babie he is adorable. the ripples of him being found have affected everyone in his life for the better

[suntails]

ripples

[ivybucky]

family values (b.b.) pt 1???

prompt: you take Bucky home to meet your family for the first time for a week’s stay during thanksgiving

A/N: this is partially inspired because my uncle is bringing his girlfriend home for thanksgiving and i absolute adore her and she’s so cute with all my cousins so i thought it would be fun to see bucky in a similar situation

- also when this comes out I’m pretty sure it’ll be my birthday??? if i finish it in time-

Current Masterlist

author: abby

words: 2161

pairing: bucky barnes x farm!girl-ish reader

song i’m listening to: innamorata - dean martin

“I’m not sure about this, Y/N,” Bucky worried front the driver’s seat of the truck that drove both of you through the back roads of Tennessee. “What if they don’t like me? I’m not exactly everyone’s type.” he muttered with a tight lipped smile. 

You reached across the middle console in between you to wrap your hand around his on the gear shift, squeezing it just a little. “Honey, if they’re anything like me, they’ll fall in love with you the moment they lay eyes on you,” you gushed, making his neck go a little pink before he glanced over at you with a wide smile. 

“Gosh, doll,” he chuckled. “I knew you were into me back then, but I didn’t know I affected you that much.” His fingers intertwined with yours, giving a slight squeeze back. “I’m just worried ‘s all.  So many new people.”

“Baby, if you want to leave at any point, just let me know,” you stated more firmly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. Whatever makes you comfortable, okay?”

Bucky gave a soft smile at you before turning his attention to the long and winding road ahead of him. He lifted your intertwined hands to kiss the back of yours before mumbling into it, “Okay.”

- 

The Y/L/N Family Farm sat on 40 acres of small hills that were backed by a nearby creek. Cattle, donkeys, ducks, and chickens scattered the land, grazing through the grass. The pond out front still with occasional ripples when a turtle popped their head out, or a sunfish surfaced for food. Besides the house, there was a barn, with various old machinery and memorabilia stored, and a greenhouse off the side of the house with vegetable growth experiments. 

Bucky pulled up to the front gate of the property, punching in the gate code before entering the fence line. 

“Holy shit, doll,” he huffed, smirking a little. “I didn’t know you were a full on cowgirl.” Your hand gently smacked his chest, causing him to chuckle. 

“Wait, Buck,” you paused, seeing your grandmother’s two donkeys meandering along the driveway. “Stop here.”

You quickly got out of the truck, smiling at Bucky’s questioning gaze as you shut the door behind you. Walking up to the donkeys with your hand reaching out, you started cooing, “Hi girls, I’ve missed you.” After several sniffs of your hand, one of the donkeys gently pressing their nose into your hand. Soon they were nuzzling both of their heads against your torso, huffing affectionately. 

The slight electrical buzz of the car window sounded and you looked up to see Bucky’s wide and loving grin. “As cute as this is babydoll, we should probably go say hi to your folks.” 

Arriving at the entry of the house, you felt Bucky take a deep breath beside you before looking at you with a nervous smile. You widely turned it, grabbing his hand and knocking on the door, before entering. 

“Gram? Mom? We’re here!” you called out, pulling Bucky behind you. Laughter rang out through the living room and kitchen as you rounded the corner. 

“Y/N, sweetie, it’s so good to see you,” your grandmother gushed as your pulled you into a hug, your mother trailing behind. “Hi sweetheart.” 

Both of them took a step after greeting you and made pointed looks towards Bucky, who, still behind you, had a wide smile at your interactions. You giggled, grabbing his hand to pull him forward, “This is my boyfriend, Bucky.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N has told me so much about you,” he smiled widely, sticking his hand out to shake theirs, only to be met with a forceful hug from your grandmother. 

“Y/N never told us how handsome you are,” she gushed, letting him go. Your mother chuckled, “No, I’m pretty sure she couldn’t stop telling us how handsome he was.” 

You face went red, “Mom! Can we not, please?” Bucky chuckled next you, squeezing your hand. 

You made your way around the room, greeting and introducing Bucky to your various aunts, uncles, and cousins. Your grandfather, being a little intense, had given him a stern handshake before straightforwardly asking him about his intentions. You tensed, clinging to Bucky’s metal arm at the question. He only chuckled before looking at you smiling and saying, “Just to make her as happy as she can be.” 

Your grandfather smiled widely at him, a sight in itself, and said, “Good answer.”

Once you had settled in, conversation flowed smoothly. Your family knew about your work with the Avengers and were quite proud, asking questions about your work and how things were going. With Bucky most of your family tread lightly around his past, but asked about some of his most recent missions. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t afraid to get right to the important questions. 

“So when you worked for Hydra,” he started, getting several yelps from his family. “What I’m just asking a question?” Bucky’s fingers intertwined with yours, and chuckled. 

“It’s okay, really,” he smiled before continuing. “What did you wanna know?”

You called his name, just quiet enough for only him to hear, but he only responded with a wink. 

“When you worked for hydra,” your grandfather began again, almost pausing for someone to try and stop him again. “What did they do to brainwash you?” 

Your grandmother gasped, “My GOD Y/GP/N, could you BE any more subtle?”

Bucky stiffened just a tad next you, letting his hand tighten on yours. 

“You know, sir,” he began with an intake of breath, before smiling once more. “I try not to think about that stuff because I’m in a better place now, and to be completely honest, that time of my life is a little fuzzy. But I know there was electrocution and a lot of physical abuse involved.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your grandfather nodded, “It’s incredible how far you’ve come from such a bad situation. I know it was probably a hard struggle letting go of your past and all the things they made you do. I’m glad that you’ve found Y/N, and I’m glad you’ve been able to outgrow the person you were forced to be.”

Tears welled in your eyes, as you smiled at your grandfather. Bucky relaxed against you, smiling. “Thank you sir,” he said softly, trying not to let too many emotions come through, before looking down at you. “I’m glad I found her too.”

-

 “I really like him,” your mother said as she stood next to you in the kitchen grabbing a drink for the both of you. You looked up to him laughing and smiling with your cousins who were about your age. Feeling your eyes on him, he met your gaze and shot you a wink before continuing the conversation. You smiled widely at your mother, “Trust me, me too.”

“Go sit back down with him and spend some time with him,” she chuckled. 

“Mom, I was gonna help with the dishes,” you argued. 

“No, don’t worry about it. He wants you over there, I can tell.” You chuckled before taking your drinks over to your seat. 

He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you closer to him. “Thanks, doll.”

Conversation with your cousins continued until one of your small cousins (and your favorite) came up to you.

“Y/N, can you and Mr. Bucky come play with us outside?” she near whined. You giggled, “Why do you ask him?”

Shyly she went up to Bucky who was already smiling in her direction and climbed into his lap. “Mr. Bucky will you and Y/N come play with us outside?” He chuckled rubbing her back a little. 

“Of course! How could I turn that down?” You giggled again, picking her up off his lap and carrying her outside where her fellow younger cousins were. 

“Alright kiddos,” Bucky announced with his hands on his hips. “What are we playing. 

“Hide and seek!” he chuckled at the unanimous yell. “Bucky will you be it?”  

“Sure, I’ll give a 30 second head start.” The cousin who brought you out here ran and hid behind your legs, causing you to giggle. Various children ran behind trees and bushes and cars in the front of the house. 

After Bucky was done counting, he uncovered his eyes and looked around the area. Immediately he knew the location of every single kid, but of course he wasn’t gonna act like he knew. However, when his eyes landed on you with little hands wrapping around the front of your legs, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Hmmm doll you look awfully suspicious,” he stated, slowly walking towards you with mischievous glint in his eye. “I think I’m gonna have to check you out.”

“James,” you said fearfully yet stern, holding your hands up. “Don’t you dare.”

“Aww doll, I think I have to,” he said now inches from you, pausing before lifting you up over his shoulder to find the small child behind you. You fell into a fit of giggles. 

“Bucky put me down!” you laughed. 

“No I don’t think I will,” he stated matter-of-factly, ticking your side. 

“Kids come help me!!” you yelped. Kids from all directions came from around you two swarmed Bucky’s legs, trying to knock him down. Of course, his super soldier strength was gonna be able to hold out against their attempts. 

Swiftly, he scooped up one of the girls, flinging her over his other shoulder. Fits of giggles from the kids just continued to sound out as Bucky finally set you down on you feet, earning a light smack on the chest. He just laughed and gave you a quick peck on the lips before being dragged out by the girls somewhere. 

You chuckled walking as he looked back at you fearfully. Your grandmother, unknown to you had walked up next to you. 

“So when are you kids getting married?” she suddenly asked, making you jump. 

“Gosh Gram, I didn’t see you,” you sighed. “I don’t even know if that’s what he wants. I’m just happy I get to be with him, even if he doesn’t want long term.”

“You’re an idiot,” she huffed.

“Gram!” 

“What? You’d have to be an idiot to not see how in love with you he is. And he agreed to spend an entire week with your family? No one does that if they don’t want long-term sweetie.”

Bucky was sitting in the grass now letting the three smallest girls play with his long hair, putting braids in it to make it “pretty”. Bucky turned to you and grinned, mouthing ‘I love you’ in your direction. You winked back. 

“Marry that man, Y/N,” she sighed, with a small smile. “As soon as you can. I’m positive that’s the only thing on his mind.” 

- 

After hours of playing with the kids and sitting down to watch a movie with the whole family, everyone but you and Bucky had retreated to their room. Now you sat on the couch by the fireplace with Bucky’s head in your lap. You fingers softly brushing out the braids that had stayed in his hair, causing him to sigh and flutter his eyes closed every time your nails ran through is scalp. 

“Baby,” he murmured. “You keep doing that and I’m gonna fall asleep right here, right now.” 

You giggled. “I keep I’m gonna keep one in. It looks good on you.” 

He sat up next to you, pulling you into his side, pulling your legs into his lap so he could rub them. He kissed the top of your head.

“Bucky, you were amazing today,” you sighed, resting your head on his chest. “Everyone just absolutely loved you. Those little girls would have you all to themselves if they could.” 

“Come on, doll. You know you’re the only girl for me,” he chuckled, causing you to smile.

“Mom and my grandparents really liked you. I think Gramps was impressed by you,” you winced, remembering his question from earlier. “I’m sorry if they were a bit overbearing tonight.”

“Doll,” he lifted your chin to meet your gaze. “I love your family. They made you and they’re apart of you. Quirks and all, I couldn’t be happier to be here right now.” 

You smiled softly, before pressing your lips to his in a loving kiss. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his. “I love you,” you smiled. 

“I love you,” he responded, wrapping his arms around you bringing you closer somehow. 

You giggled, “Those kids really did have fun with you.” He chuckled next to you.

“They were fun to be with,” he sighed. “Promise me we’ll have a girl.” You met his eyes searching for some type of confirmation of seriousness. You saw heartfelt truth as he smiled almost sheepishly at you. You smiled back, wrapping a hand around his middle. 

“I promise.”

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Tagging @all1e23​ and @writingsoftheloser​ because if they read my fic i would die

[maxparkhurst]

Happy (Mun)day! I love the way that you portray Max and Auggie; they’re a very fascinating pair with a lot of depth to them, and you give them qualities and tics that make both brother and sister beautifully realistic. Do you ever find yourself struggling to write our their shared and separate traits and mannerisms? Or are they something that comes like second nature?

HAPPY (MUN) DAY TO YOU, TOO! 

Thank you so much for the compliment <3 I am practically blushing and grinning like an idiot now! It means a whole hecking lot, especially coming from such a talented writer <3 

As far as the question goes; At the beginning it was really challenging to play the two characters at the same time. I found their personalities started to blend together and it was hard to distinguish Max’s voice from Auggie’s in my head. They’ve gone through a lot of iterations and the one we see today is like the fifth one or so. Initially Augustine was a lot younger than Max and Alchemy wasn’t even part of the equation. Gradually I whittled it down and edited a few details here and there to the versions we see today. 

I ran into a lot of pit falls when developing these two, one of which was making Auggie a “side-piece.” He never had a lot to say and usually fell into the overly naviee but adorable baby brother trope. It was more of a hassle to add him in scenes and I realized it was because he didn’t add anything to the story- aside from, you know, existing? I could’ve placed anyone in his role and the story’s dynamic wouldn’t change, if there ever was a coherent story. I almost scraped him entirely but then came the stark realization that MAX had no character without Augustine. I’d made both of them a cliche, and that needed to be remedied. Back to the drawing board I went. 

Augustine actually came easier to me than Max. He’s a more open and optimistic character. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and its only recently that he’s learned to keep things to himself. His character and desires started to come into focus, but Max was a different story. She’s an odd blend; half well-read intellect, other half complete dumbass. There was layers to Max I had to peel back which was difficult, especially when Augustine was in the mix. He’s a brighter character and tends to outshine Max in casual occurrences. The best solution for that was to put Augustine to the side and really focus in on Max. 

The hardest part about writing them in tandem is keeping in mind that their actions affect not only them as individuals, but them as a duo. Max’s mystique worries Augustine, and Auggie’s good-lucky nature elicits concern on Max’s part. You’ve gotta always be mindful of the ripples they have on each other; it’s cause and effect but on steroids. Essentially, it’s being two people at once. A lot of flipping back and forth. 

The only thing I’ve got going for me as far as “second nature” is that anything I write I imagine in my mind like a movie. I’m a third person observer and I let the scenes play out, editing and fine-tuning details like a director before fervently trying to recreate what I’ve seen into words. Am I successful at it? Meh. There’s a lot I have to learn. 

But am I having fun? 

Oh, hell yeah. These two are by far some of my favorite muses to play. 

TLDR: There’s a lot of thought put into these two and it makes me so happy when that effort’s realized! I hope everyone gets the same kick out of these two as I do :) 

Thanks again @godshands for the ask! It was fun to share the process with everyone

[amuseoffyre]

What are your thoughts on the umbrella academy? Vanya looks to be an amalgamation if sailors Saturn, Neptune and uranus

Alas, this analogy passes me by because I have never once seen Sailor Moon in any incarnation.

However, regarding academy, I have thoughts.

I love a well-built storyline, especially one that throws you straight in the deep end, when you see the kids coming back together and all you know is that they are pretty much all estranged but now, they’re back together because their dad is dead. It gives such delicious teasers about all the different factions and fall-outs that slowly build up through the series. Every dynamic makes so much sense once you see it all in context.

Also, I love the fact they manage to portray accurate sibling dynamics, which vary between brother/sister, sister/sister and brother/brother. Of course there are going to be difference and of course, that’s going to affect how one sibling sees another (ie. Allison versus Luther’s approach to Vanya in the final episode)

I’m so intrigued/bemused by the father fella. I was half asleep when I watched the finale at 5am, so Imma have to rewatch and make my brain understand some stuff a bit better. The backstory, the implication, there was a lot there that went unsaid and I didn’t have the braincells to compute. I have a weekend. I will make use of it.

Now, characters:

Klaus - I. love. him. From the moment he crashed in, his wryness and brokeness and snark made me go “yes. This one”. And then when you find out about why there’s the brokeness, I wanted to punch the old man in the teeth. That scene in the crypt was… yeah. No. Klaus is my precious baby and I love him. (I also love the fact that he plays Cha-cha and Hazel so smoothly, despite being in mad withdrawal, having been tortured into bits, and still manages to do it with a smirk. And the fact some of his ghost people high-fived in the background)

Vanya - Vanya is the postergirl for the damage emotional abuse can do to a kid. Assuming you’re ordinary in a world where everyone is ordinary is fine. Being telepathically forced to believe you’re ordinary - when you’re not - in a narrow world where everyone you know is extraordinary is Not Good.

I was a bit iffy about how quickly she fell in with ‘Leonard’, but when you’ve been as horribly neglected and socially isolated as she was for her whole childhood, it makes sense she would cling to the one person who actively sought her out and told her she was special. I am a bit… eh…. about the little voice telling her to unleash hell, though. I get bored of people who have that as an explanation for why they’ve killed a bunch of people. They used it for every frigging villain in the old Spiderman films and I am Done with it.

Five - amazing. I love him. I love that he was a stubborn little git when he accidentally screwed up his life and that only intensified with age. Also, the love story with Dolores was sweet but so sad. The kid playing old-man Five is brilliant and I can’t wait to see where they go with him.

Allison - oh sweetheart. So many things done with the best of intentions and all going horribly, horribly wrong. No one raised in that environment was ever going to be run-of-the-mill parent material and then when you find out that she’d been instructed to use her powers on family members before, like it was totally normal, no wonder she screwed up so badly with her daughter. And the fact she forgave Vanya immediately and wanted to protect her and keep her safe says everything about her.

Diego - he took a little while to grow on me, but when it hit me, it hit hard. I do find it interesting that he was the one always snarling about their dad being a monster when no one else would really say it and now, I wonder if it was less about what their father was doing to him and more what he was doing to everyone else in the family, because Diego pretends not to care, but I honestly think he cares more than anyone in the whole academy. The way he looked after Grace and Klaus especially made me so happy. Oh and the way he kept on showing up around the detective the same way Catra does in She-Ra. “Hey Eudora” :D :D :D

Ben - I know we don’t have much of him yet, but what we have, I absolutely adore. The fact he’s literally the angel on Klaus’s shoulder - an eye-rolling, snarking angel - is a delight, despite the fact he’s there because he ded.

Luther - Out of all of the characters, this fella frustrates me so much. I understand his obsession with “I’m number one”, which is so childish - and understandably so - compared to the rest of the gang, since he’s the only one who never really grew up into a mostly-functional adult. It’s the fact that he keeps making bloody stupid calls, especially when anyone else tries to take point or have ideas.

Oh and his behaviour towards Vanya is… ARGLE. Find out your sister was tortured and emotionally manipulated by your father for fear of her powers? Why, now she’s older and knows about those powers again and is sobbing and scared in your arms, why don’t you do exactly the same thing your father did instead of HELPING her and stop all your other siblings from helping her too? Well done, dumbass. You helped trigger the apocalypse.

I get that he was reacting emotionally because of what had happened to Allison, but he literally learned your father and the chimp lied about huge elements of their lives multiple times in the past week and now, he listens to what they say?

Apart from them, I adored Hazel and Agnes. They were so frigging sweet. And Cha-cha was awesome, but completely terrifying in a kind of terminator way.

Otherwise, I have a bunch alternate universes rolling around in my head, where one thing changed and the ripples it would have. Here are a few:

Leonard/Harold is not a frigging moron. Instead of lying to her about the book and her powers and things, he is open and honest with her from the word go, unlike everyon else in her life. “My dad hurt me so I made him stop” would ring a lot of bells for someone raised in the Umbrella Academy. He lies about where he got the book, of course, because stalking her brother would be awkward. But he could just say that a junkie was trying to sell stuff and the book seemed important, so he looked her up as the author of the book about the academy, in case it was important. And so, she trusts him completely and he gently, gently, gently manipulates her into turning on her family.

Allison breaking her hold on Vanya much earlier by telling her about the room and what happened in it

Luther actually trusting his siblings over the father who turned him part-primate and when Vanya comes to be forgiveness and ask for help, he helps her

Klaus accidentally bringing David back from Vietnam with him and the awkwardness of trying to explain to everyone that woops, I stumbled into the Vietnam war and found love

In conclusion, me likey :)

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Warrior Daughter

Chapter Nine

Previous Chapter

Pairing Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 3732 Warnings: Language, smexy

Song: Raise Hell by Dorothy

Steve woke with a jolt, his heart racing, and breath coming on short gasps. The dream had been far too vivid, a mixture of his Howling Commando days, Sokovia, and when Y/N had fought the ljå.

Everyone dead or dying, men screaming, his girl crying out for him to save her only to be impaled by that creatures claws. It left him shaken and sweating when he slipped from the massive bed to walk out into the other room where the fire still glowed in its grate.

He was wound up now. Antsy. Usually after something like this he would go for a run or beat the hell out of a few heavy bags, but here he was stuck without an outlet and walked out on the balcony in his shorts.

It was really flipping cold, silence his only company. That and the dual moons of Asgard. Here again, he shook his head in wonder and stared out at the slumbering city. Was it any wonder humanities early ancestors thought Asgardians were gods?

A soft hand landed on his back, but he didn't startle. With how hard his heart had been pounding, he figured he'd wake her but had hoped distance would make a difference.  Apparently not.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said as she slipped beneath his arm to press her naked body to his. “Baby! You can't be out here like that!”

“You're out here like this. Fair is fair, Rogers,” she teased.

“Sweetheart, no one cares if I'm wandering around in my shorts. You haven't got a stitch on. You'll catch your death!” He could already feel the gooseflesh rising on her arms.

“I assure you, sjelevenn. Many a woman would care quite a bit if they found you dressed like this on a moonlit evening,” she snickered. “But yes, I'm freezing my tits off out here. Come inside and tell me about it.”

She took him by the hand and led him inside. Closed the door and took him to bed. He couldn't help but admire her ass as she walked, and let her usher him back into the huge bed where she fussed and plumped pillows and dragged furs up around them after climbing in, scooting into a sitting position, and patting her chest.

“Come tell me all about it, baby.”

Steve chuckled softly but wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to cuddle and wrapped his arms around her waist as he rested his head on her chest. Her fingers ran through his hair, stroking gently, while the opposite hand traced patterns on his shoulder.

“Just a bad dream. Things get jumbled up sometimes. Old mixes with new to make all new nightmares.”

“Do you have them a lot?” she asked.

“Not usually. Not like after the ice.” He'd had them nightly for a while, finding it difficult to relate to this new reality.

She hummed softly. “Don't walk away if it happens again, Stevie. I could feel how upset and terrifying it was. You don't always have to be strong with me. You don't always have to be Cap. If you need just to be Steve and have a cuddle, that's okay too.”

He sighed and relaxed into her soothing touch. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling as she kissed the top of his head.

“My mom used to do that.”

“Yeah? Back when you were shorter?” she teased.

He chuckled a little. “Bucky used to use me as a leaning post.”

“I bet you were adorable, all grumbly and pouting.”

“Well, I've always seen adorable.”

“And so modest.”

“Hey!”

“I'm just teasing,” she laughed.

He rubbed his whiskers on her in retaliation. “I'm perfectly modest!”

“And so humble!” she giggled.

He yanked her down and rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed from wrists to thighs with his weight. “Say, Steve is a humble and modest guy.”

She giggled and bit her lip, but shook her head. “Nope.”

“Say it,” he growled menacingly.

“Steve is…”

“A humble and modest guy.”

“Steve is a… man in trouble!” she laughed, flipping him to his back, sending sheets and furs flying. “Now,” she snickered, “what were we talking about? Oh, right. Y/N is the greatest Avenger.”

Steve slowly stretched his arms up, dragging her higher on his chest. Her perfect breasts now dangled inches from his face. “Y/N,” he murmured and flicked his tongue over the nub of one nipple. “Is the greatest,” he licked the other, “Avenger,” he whispered and sucked her into his mouth. The warmth of her pleasure bloomed over his chest and rippled down his spine.

“Steve,” she sighed, her body going soft against his.

He rolled them back over easily. “You’re so pretty like that. All soft and warm and pliant.”

She arched and stretched beneath him, rubbing her silky smooth skin against his. “Steven,” she sighed again, wiggling her hands free of his grasp to slide them down his back and dig her nails in gently.

“Baby,” he purred against her jaw where he was lazily pressing kisses. “Want you again.”

“I always want you, Steve,” she whispered.

“Gonna love you real good, baby girl.” He kissed the corner of her mouth when she whimpered and ran his hand down her side to grab a handful of her ass.

“Big talker. Let’s see you prove it,” she snickered.

He chuckled even as he proved it.

***

“You are sure you do not want us coming with you?” Thor asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

You sighed but patted his arm. “I think it best you don’t. With what Eira had to say, it is better if you let us go alone. Having the King show up may inflame things. Give us a day. Let me make my assessment, then send Sif. I’ll give her my report and let you know if there is anything I need.”

“Well, I am going with you,” Loki stated and crossed his arms like a petulant child.

“No, you are not,” you said through gritted teeth. “I have a plan, Loki. You need to stick to it, and do your part.”

He pouted and turned his face away. “Fine, but if something happens to you, I will never forgive you.”

“Ugagn,” you sighed and punched him in the ribs. “Shut the hell up.”

He grunted, but it wiped the pout from his face when Loki smirked at you. “Be careful, Sváfa.”

“Always.” You nodded your head and turned away to jog down the castle stairs to where the two spiffily groomed and tacked pegasi waited. Bucky looked slightly irked, but it couldn’t be helped. To reach the valley quickly, you had to fly, and as a pegasus could easily take two, he would ride with Eira.

There was something there. At breakfast, the conversation between Bucky and Eira had been a little… chilly, but those were concerns of later, and Bucky was going to have to suck it up. He looked good in his armour though. You wondered if Loki had a hand in picking it out for though it was similar to Steve’s own massive burgundy set, Bucky’s was a blue dark enough to be mistaken for black. While Steve’s was heavily carved with knots and runes, Buck’s had been decorated with the symbol of the clan of Sváfaland, a pegasus rampant, wings spread wide, with a wolf snarling at its feet.

While some people might have looked at that image and assumed the wolf and pegasus did battle, you knew the truth. The wolf faced away from the pegasus. One sought to protect the other, just as Sváfaland had always lived at the foot of the Valkyrjur.

Steve’s lands, the mountains, valleys, and keep had once helped supply the Valkyrie with the things they needed. With the area no longer being inhabited, you wondered if that too had affected things in the Valkyrjur, but you’d kept that question to yourself. Steve’s responsibilities were to Midgard, not Asgard, and you wouldn't have him feeling pressured to assume a role he didn't want.

In full battle dress, Steve looked enormous standing at Hemme’s head. Today his shield had been slung over his back. Loki had produced a harness similar to what Steve wore with his suits at home to allow it to attach to his back. While it wasn’t the electromagnet gauntlet of his current suit, it was still magnetic and kept the shield available but out of the way, and when Steve threw his cloak on overtop, you couldn’t even tell it was there.

Both he and Bucky were scruffily unshaven, and you figured by the time you returned to Earth, they would be sporting beards like Thor.

“Are we ready, Eira?” you asked, noting the slight anxiety on the woman in the trickle of sweat on her neck and the quick beating of her heart.

“Yes, your majesty.” She ran a hand over her steed’s neck. “He’s never flown pillion before.”

You joined her and looked the grey over. Well conditioned with sturdy limbs, a deep girth and heavy flank, you nodded. “He’ll do fine. Bucky’s an old horseman,” you smirked his way when he snorted.

“Was that a dig, dollface?” Bucky asked. He looked intimidating standing there in all his gear.

“And if it was? There’s nothing you can do about it, old man,” you sassed. “Get on the pegasus, Buck.”

He rolled his eyes but stepped up beside Eira to run his hand down the equine’s neck. “Sorry about the weight,” Bucky muttered. “What’s his name?” he asked Eira.

“Røyke. It means smoke in the old tongue,” Eira explained.

“Good choice,” Buck murmured, skirting Røyke’s wing and stepping lightly into the saddle before shifting himself behind it. “C’mon, little girl. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Eira scowled and mounted. “Do not call me that. I am not a child.”

“Sure thing, princess.”

“I will have Røyke buck you into a lake, Sergeant.”

“Children,” you sighed and nodded to Steve already aboard Hemme. Both appeared highly amused by the two bickering behind you.

“C’mon, baby girl.” Steve held out his hand and simply lifted you into the saddle. “Bucky just doesn’t want to admit he’s nervous.”

“Fuck you, Rogers,” Bucky snarled. “I’m not nervous.”

“Then you’d best hold on,” Eira glanced your way and smiled before she turned Røyke and sent him lurching forward. Three hard strides and they were airborne, Bucky scrambling and swearing to maintain his seat.

“Thank you for never doing that to me,” Steve chuckled and held out your helmet.

You smiled at him before putting it on. “You’ve never been dumb enough to piss me off before a ride.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around your waist, grabbing the heavy leather strap on the front of the saddle for just such a purpose. Hemme gathered himself and pushed into three long strides before his wings caught the wind and you rose up to follow the grey.

Eira wasn’t doing Bucky any favours, and neither was Røyke. The little sides slips and rough wing drags were making for a terrible first flight, and you sent Hemme after them with more speed to hover to her right.

“Eira, you dishonour yourself,” you reprimanded, “and you embarrass your mount.”

Both hung their heads. “Forgive me, your majesty. I will stop.”

“A prank made in jest is one thing, but you must know when to end it.” Bucky was looking a little green, but his colour was returning quickly. “This is Steve and Bucky’s first time to fly over Asgard, and much has changed since last I was here. Maybe you could play tour guide on the way?”

“Of course, Queen Sváfa!” she smiled, her voice carrying on the wind.

“Well done, my queen,” Steve breathed against your throat.

“She’s young yet, and I think… something happened between them last night. They’re at odds today. I can’t have that, Steve.”

“I know, baby. I’ll talk to Buck. You figure out Eira. Are you really okay with this whole Sváfa thing?”

It had been decided you’d revert to your original name. It made for less confusion. Here that was who you were. You were Queen Sváfa reborn, even if Y/N was who lived in your heart.

“Yes. It’s fine. When you’re born Valkyrie, and reborn into those memories, it is easier to shed the old life. Had I been born here, trained, and returned as Sváfa, Y/N would have been easy to put aside with only fourteen or fifteen years in that life. But I lived a life as Y/N. It’s who I am on Earth. Can I put it aside to be Sváfa again? Here? Maybe, I think so. But when we go back to Earth, I want my name back, Steve.”

He held out his hand with the large blue sapphire on it. “And I will be taking this off,” he chuckled.

“I would expect nothing less,” you snickered. “Don’t let Tony see it. He’s already put out you’re a king.”

“Yeah, there’s three of us, and none of them are him!” Steve chuckled.

***

The flight over Asgard was pleasant, Eira a knowledgeable guide, pointing out many of Asgard’s wonders on the way. But when you made the turn to approach the Valkyrjur, you felt it.

The shadow which hung on the mountain. The evil that lived in the heart of the valley.

“Can you feel that?” you asked Steve quietly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “What the heck is it?”

“Darkness. Evil. Something…” You shook your head. “It’s wretched.”  Something needed to be done and quickly.

“What’s that?” Steve asked. “The long run of green up in the mountains.”

“The Valley of the Pegasi. It’s where the mares stay, and the foals are raised,” you smiled.

Bucky let out a long low whistle. “Damn. That’s a big place.”

The Castle of the Valkyrie rose in the distance, a keep of stones and mortar. Unlike Asgard, it had never been modernized on the exterior. Traditional held sway and the stones were as ancient as the Valkyrjur itself.

“It once housed five thousand Valkyrie,” Eira said. “Now there are only three thousand.”

“Three!” you gasped. “There should never be less than four! And how many are accolades?”

“Four hundred, my queen.”

“And maidens?”

“Three hundred more.”

“Fuck! Twenty-five hundred Valkyrie! That is unacceptable! How many Jegere are there?” you asked.

Eira frowned. “What is… Jegere?”

You stared at her in shock. “The hunters, the seekers! The Valkyrie with the talent for finding those who should be brought to the Valkyrjur.”

“There is no such thing, my queen.”

“That’s not possible! Gundborg herself was chosen! She should know of the Jegere. The temple should know of the Jegere!”

“Y/N,” Steve murmured. “Calm down. You’ll get this sorted out.”

“I thought… people just applied to be one,” Bucky murmured.

“They do,” Eira said. “I was sent by my family because of the circumstances of my birth.”

You shook your head. “Yes, that also happens. Many young girls dream of being Valkyrie, but there are others still who are born for it. They are meant to be Valkyrie. The Jegere would ride once a year to attend the halls of Kings and the longhouse of the Earls, they would stop at every town and every village, search every farm. Always they returned with a girl or two each.”

“It has not been so as far back as I know it,” Eira said. “I don’t even know if my father would know of such a thing.”

“What about, Thor? Or Odin? Wouldn’t it have been weird that it just… stopped?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know, Buck. These are Valkyrie things. The Jegere never made public what their purpose was. They would find a girl, speak with her parents or her guardian, and return with her. It was an honour to be Valkyrie. To have one descend upon your hall, and then recommend your daughter return with them? No one said no.”

“But… what about the other sjelevenn?” Steve asked. “Shouldn’t the other Valkyrie remember?”

“Gunborg is the only one to be reborn in some time,” Eira murmured. “I know some died in battle, others of advanced years, but no one has returned in centuries.”

“None?” you gasped. “Ragna, Begita, Sarka? Not even Gislaug?” Eira shook her head. “And no new bonds have formed?” She shook her head again. “Not one in a thousand years?” you asked, shocked.

“Not one,” she murmured and looked away.

“Jesus!” you snarled. “Some shit’s gone down, Steven. Some major shit. I’m going to have me some answers, goddammit! Starting with them,” you growled, eyeing the spires of the temple set away from the keep you flew over.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked, pointing past the castle.

You laughed at his amazement. “That, Bucky, is the Hall of Valhalla!”

The magnificent building spread out long behind the castle. Its doors were currently closed but would swing wide later tonight, inviting all the Einherjar to feast within. Two stone wolves stood guard at the entrance, and a stone eagle with wings held aloft curled its talons into the peak of the roof.

“If you think it’s something from the outside, wait till you see the inside!” Eira laughed.

“Alright,” you called to her. “Let’s get this over with. I have a Fullmakt who needs an ass-kicking.”

Circling the holdings of the Valkyrjur a final time, you led the way, descending to land in the stone courtyard where women in white armour stood waiting in row upon row. Girls in blue lined up in front of their sisters.

“How many you think?” you asked Steve, wondering if your estimate was on or not.

“Fifteen hundred at most,” he murmured.

“At most. Fan-fucking-tastic,” you grumbled, the clatter of Hemme’s hooves on stone covering your voice when you landed beside the statue of Freyja.

Instantly there was a rumble of noise, a wave of whispers rippling through the crowd as the similarities between the helm you wore and the one on the statue registered. You swung your leg over Hemme’s neck and jumped to the ground, Steve following suit. Bucky and Eira doing the same.

Shrugging back your cloak, you lifted your chin and took long strides toward the group of waiting women before coming to a halt a few feet away and took the helmet from your head to hold in your hands.

“I am Sváfa, daughter of Tove, rightful Queen of the Valkyrjur. Too long have I been gone, but I am here now. To those of you who have done me the courtesy of being present for my arrival as commanded, I offer my thanks and my gratitude. You do not know me. I do not yet know you. But I am here now to return us, the Elite of Asgard, to the proper order of things. In one hour,” you lifted your hand and parted the group of them, “those Valkyrie to my left will present themselves at the training ground for assessment. In two hours, those of you on my right will do the same. Come prepared to show me your best, sisters. Full battle dress. For those of you who are accolades still, your assessment will be held tomorrow.” You arched a brow, waiting for a response.

“Yes, my queen!” rang a chorus of disjointed voices.

“Excuse me? Did some of you think that was a request?”

“No, my queen,” said a small girl with huge eyes at the front of the group, her awe clear.

“Then what should everyone’s response have been, novate?”

“Yes, my queen!” she shouted loudly.

“Excellent!” you smiled at her. “Dismissed!” you shouted but crooked your finger at the novate who’d showed her courage. “What is your name, little sister.”

“Ilsa, my queen.”

“Ilsa. Do you know where the rest of my Valkyrie are?”

“Waiting in the throne room, my queen.”

“Thank you, child. I hope your bravery today is a reflection of your work tomorrow. Are you assigned to the barns?”

“Yes, milady.” She nodded.

“Then I ask you to take Hemme and Røyke and see them groomed and settled. Hemmelighet will need the large box stall at the end of the barn made ready for his use.”

“Oh, but Valkyrie Gunborg has claimed that stall for Merrion.” She fidgeted a little. “He’s… not exactly the nicest mount.”

You wanted to mutter ‘ornery like his rider’ but kept it to yourself. “Hemme? You think you can bully an interloper out of your stall without destroying the barn?”

He snorted, then lipped Ilsa’s hair.

“Then it’s settled. He’ll kick Merrion out, you get the stall ready, and tell Medina I expect Hemme’s stall to be sparkling.”

“Yes, my queen.” Ilsa took hold of each mount’s reins and led them away, hooves clacking merrily over the stones.

Once she was away, you clenched your hands into fists. “I may kill the Fullmakt.”

“My queen?” Eira gasped.

“If what I think is about to happen happens, I may be left with no choice.” Heaving a heavy sigh, you made to put your helmet back on, stopping when Steve’s hand landed on your shoulder.

“And what’s that?”

“They’re going to fight to keep my throne from me.”

Blessed darkness surrounded you with the helmets return. You were getting better at discerning shapes and colours, but the information from your eyes after so long without was disorienting, and you would need your wits about you for what came next.

“If they come at you, can I act?” Bucky asked.

“If the words Queen’s Challenge haven’t crossed anyone's lips, you do whatever you think necessary, Buck. You too Steve, Eira.”

“And if they do throw out a challenge and someone intervenes?” Steve asked.

You looked up at him, knowing he would see hard eyes without mercy. “Than you put that fancy sword of yours through their heart. No one is allowed to interfere with a Queen’s Challenge. That is still a death sentence, right, Eira?”

Her smile was sharp. “Yes, my queen. That rule is very much still enforced.”

“Excellent!” you smiled wickedly before striding toward the doors. “Let’s go raise a little hell.”

Next Chapter

[askalt2d]

He's not panicking. Really, he's not. He's overjoyed, elated, giddy– and only a little terrified. What if he trips? What if he messes up his vows? What if–

Noodle squeezes his arm, careful not to rumple the sleeve of his tux. "You okay, Toochie?"

The look he gives her says it all.

She sighs and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You'll be fine. It's you and 2D. Nothing could be more right."

Stuart glances at himself in the mirror one last time, at his hair combed into submission, his crisp white suit and cornflower blue tie. His bare left hand.

"Yeah." His voice cracks. "I'll be okay. I just have to see him, and I'll be fine."

Noodle smiles at him, and opens the door.

He can see his friends, his family, all sitting in the pews and standing by the altar. There's some tears, and so many smiles. The music swells. From the other side of the chapel, the door opens, and he can see 2D, holding Russel's arm– and suddenly, everything is blurry. Noodle sighs affectionately and hands Stuart a handkerchief.

That radiant cornflower blue blob gets bigger and bigger as both men walk towards the altar from each end. Stuart can make out some details now– black eyes. Blue hair. The biggest smile he's ever seen.

He's close enough to touch now, and Stuart does, gripping his hand tightly as the groomsmen and groomsmaids file in to meet them.

Their friends. Their family. It brings him so much joy to see them all here. No matter the myriad differences and disagreements between some of their guests, they're all here. They're all here to celebrate their friends' union, their love. And that, Stuart thinks, smiling, is the greatest wedding gift he and 2D could ever ask for.

Dan held her bouquet with emotion and smiles fondly when she sees her friend, after everything they have gone through together this is by far one of the best moments she has shared with Stuart, it is inevitable of course to let a few tears out. For other part, Danielle watched the ceremony with a sincere smile on her face, she gave Adrienne’s hand an squeeze as a way of affection. She wishes the true happiness for them. @imdanielle-xx @hello-imdan

It's...odd for Adrienne, seeing her ex wear a flower she'd grown herself in his lapel at his wedding to another man. She still resents him a little, for breaking both her heart and Danielle's. But...she has Danielle now. It's a love she never imagined, and one she wouldn't trade for the world. She and Stuart had found themselves in other people, had found light and joy and peace. And she's glad for it. So when his gaze finds hers, there's no malice in her smile. She just nods, and squeezes her girlfriend's hand back. @drenny-dreadful

Yvaniel got a Mysterious Wedding invitation. He decided to go anyways. He figured it’s someone he forgot about after having amnesia. His bright purple hair floated. Yes floated. He puts on a sliver crown, a normal tux, black boots, and rings that he stole from the four kings. When he arrives he notices Lucifer, irritated. But now that he thinks of it... he kinda remembers.. Stuart, 2D. Lucifer is not his father, he wasn’t his true self. @askarchangelyvaniel

Lucifer dressed himself into a tail coat, all black, silver tie, and silver earrings, his hair slicked back. He’s never been to a wedding honestly. He puts armor rings on his horns and fingers so he doesn’t get hurt, or hurts others. When he arrives he can’t help but be a nervous wreck. His daughters- well not His Exactly, being there. And.. Murder? He’s scared. But he’s hoping to at least have fun with everyone else. @askrivallucifer

What a beautiful ceremony there was taking place. Both twins, Euphemia and Dulcinea, were resisting the urges to gape around the room in awe, they were placed so perfectly on either side of their tall, blue-haired friends. Being identical twins and wearing the same-- different-- dresses from every other groomsmaid, it only made sense to arrange them in a sort of bookend position to stand beside the grooms. It was a little hard to convince Euphie to stand anywhere but next to sister, but they eventually got there, but Murdoc was the one allowed to stand close behind her. He was just off to the side so he’d be closer to...his dads. Dulcinea was the one who wouldn’t part from Murdoc’s side, the arrangement still appearing somewhat even despite this. In Murdoc’s arm was little Ignacio in a little suit to match his father’s. Euphoria? In Dulcinea’s arms and, with the bottom of the baby’s dress mimicking her mother’s to look like a bundle of flowers, it was much like Dolly was holding the most adorable bouquet. @thesweetestaccidents

And of course, after all the others had taken their places, a tiny girl with bright blue hair appears. Parker gazes around curiously as she's carried down the aisle by her grandma– but as soon as she sees her fathers, she laughs in joy, nearly upsetting the rings fastened to the pillow clutched in her hand. "Bloo!" she exclaims. "Bloo, bloo!"

She takes her place, and the officiant steps forward. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered today to witness the joining of these two souls..."

The next few minutes are a blur. Stuart can only see 2D. His smile, his trembling hands, his beautiful eyes. He can only hear his own heart pounding.

A ribbon is wrapped round the two men's joined hands– though Rachel Pot had insisted on a traditional wedding, she'd conceded a simple handfasting ritual while the two said their vows.

As the ribbon is wound around their hands, Stuart clears his throat again. And again. "2D..." he starts.

"You– you're the love of my life. I can't imagine bein' me without you bein' there by my side. You make me happy in ways I– I didn't know were possible.

"2D, you are my joy. You're my angel. You're my life. My love. My– m-my..." He chokes up, and the officiant pauses, concerned.

"Your bluebird," 2D says softly, smiling.

Stuart nods, tears falling thick and fast.

2D leans forward and kisses his cheek, then bites his lip. "I-I-I...I forgot wot I was gonna say. F-for me vows." He looks at the officiant nervously. "Could...could I have a second, p-please?"

Taken a bit aback, she nods kindly. 2D smiles at her, then bites his lip again, deep in thought.

There's a small cough in the back as silence stretches on.

Finally, 2D looks up again. "Stu, I fought me life was set. Be a nobody, then be a rockstar, then either die in a blaze o' glory or fade away into obscurbity. You made me realize I could be sumfin' else. I could just...be 'appy. I could be me." Under the ribbon binding their hands, his thumb strokes Stuart's hand. "I could be wif you. It's rarely perfect, but it's us, an' that's perfect in its own way. And I can't wait for the rest of my life– of our lives– to be the same kinda perfect imperfect we make together." 2D tilts his head. "Does...does tha' make sense?"

"Yeah." Stuart nods, heart full to bursting. "It makes all the sense in the world."

The officiant unwraps their hands, and Rachel carries Parker and the rings forward. The Pots each give their daughter a kiss as they take their rings, and then there's silence.

Stuart slides the simple golden band onto 2D's hand, and 2D does the same.

"Do you, Stuart Harold Pot, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to honor and love, until death do you part?"

"I do," Stuart says, at the exact same time 2D does. A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd, including the two blue haired men. "Sorry, was that for him, o-or for me?"

"That one was for you."

"Oh." He rubs 2D's hand with his thumb. "I do, then."

"And do you, Stuart Harold '2D' Pot, take–"

2D is bouncing on his heels a bit. "I do, I do, I already said I do!"

"Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you both husbands. You may now seal your union with a kiss."

And, just as they did for the very first time a year ago to the day, they do.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

WAD 94 CHAPTER DRAFT START

Lance had had two screaming nightmares that had broken Keith's heart. Having woken sometime during the night, it took him a few ticks to realise his husband was screaming and sobbing, while his mother tried to hush him and reassure him it was just a nightmare. Both had been Shiro related, the first Lance begging Krolia to stop Shiro from hurting him, and the second was violent enough for Lance to throw up across the bed, and then try running when Krolia tried to calm him. That had ended with his mother nursing Lance in his lap as screamed against her over what had happened all those phoebes ago when Lance had crashed Blue on the ice planet. The nightmares were physically painful to watch, and so was the way Lance calmed down enough to beg Krolia not tell him, before dissolving again. He'd been watching Lance because he was worried, but now he'd something he wasn't supposed to and he felt like a quiznak for it. Convincing Lance to go shower, his mother gathered up the ruined blankets before picking up Lance's communicator "Keith, I can practically hear you panicking right now" "How am I supposed to not?" "They were just nightmares. He feels feverish, so he's going to take a shower" "Feverish, or heat feverish?" "I don't know, all I can smell is his vomit. He wants me to leave him alone for a while, so once he gets back in bed, I'll head back to your room" At least the boys were sleeping through all of this, that was something "Will he be alright on his own?" "He'll be fine. I need to change these sheets, see you soon"

True to her word, barely 10 doboshes later Krolia was sliding into bed next to the boys. Gathering Kelance against her, she nuzzled into him with a sigh "Keith, get some sleep" "How am I supposed to?" "Lance said he wants to talk to you later, so you can stop worrying" "He wants to talk?" Keith's heart soared. Lance wanted him! "It doesn't take much to make you happy" "You're as bad as Pidge" "Thanks. She's pretty badarse. He said he'd come up for lunch. So maybe he's not going to go into heat?" "I hope not..."

Famous last words.

The thought of talking to Lance at lunch time sustained him all morning, and helped ease the pain of the "bad" news they got. Lotor was "worried". Despite being told everything and everyone was alight, the half-Galra had decided to come see for himself, and would be arriving late that afternoon. Even though she'd only stood up for him the night before, Allura had fought as hard and politely as she could to dissuade him from visiting, buuut he was already on his way, so there was nothing they could do change his mind. It was like the universe had aligned to intentionally destroy every ounce of patience he had. Toral. The fight with Lance. Krolia showing up and now Lotor. All he needed was Shiro to be an arse and he'd hit the jackpot. Still. He kept himself busy with the boys until lunch time. And then... Lance didn't show up to the lounge room with the rest of them.

Instead, Lance showed up about 10 doboshes late, with a very clear excuse as to why he was. Dressed in just an oversized shirt from his pregnancy, and a pair of boxer briefs, the omega his arms wrapped around his stomach, Lance was whimpering in pain, as slick rolled down his inner thighs, filling the whole room with the sweet scent of his mate. Instantly everyone was affected, their friends scents filling with desire unconsciously "K-Keith..." Snarling, Keith deposited Kelance in his mother lap, before climbing onto the table and walking over everyone's meals in an attempt to get Lance sooner "Ugh!" Slumping forward, Keith half dived to catch him and hefting him up to his chest "Shit, Lance!" "S-sorry. C-couldn't find my communicator... ugh..." Fucking Krolia. Oh well. She now had to deal with everyone else "It's ok. I've got you" "Keith, need it now" "I'll knot you soon... just hold on" "N-no... my ring... I can't..." "Your ring?" "I don't know where it is" Grabbing Lance's hand, he saw both ring fingers bare "I don't have them" "K-Keith...!" Looking around the hallway, he needed a room. If he could get Lance to cum, hopefully his body would give him some relief "Let me message mum. I've have her hunt for them" "I can't... I woke up and it'd started"

Screw it.

Striding down the hall, sent Krolia a very blunt message of "Find Lance's ring". She'd know what he meant, and she'd find them, even if they didn't want to be found. By passing the medical room, the kitchen and the bridge, Keith carried Lance to the room they usually used when staying in the medical room. It wasn't ideal, but it was private. Laying Lance down, he groaned as Lance slid his hands down, hooking his thumbs in the waist of his underwear as he pulled it down "Baby, we can't have sex. I'm going to try and help you through this wave" "It hurts" Maybe they'd get lucky and this would only be a one day thing? Either way, he couldn't knot Lance without his ring on... not when he wasn't in his right mind. Climbing into bed, Keith spread Lance's legs wide "K-Keith. Need you" "Baby, I've got an idea"

With Lance sitting on his face, his omega was alternating between licking, sucking and bobbing his head sloppily, while riding Keith's tongue. He knew it had to hurt his omega not to be mounted, but Lance was whimpering and so close to cumming... and with his mouth around Keith's erection, it was helping to keep own need to breed at bay. If they could just last a little longer, his mother would finally find Lance's missing rings.

But pups... he was so conflicted.

The memories of Lance's swollen stomach. The way it bounced when Lance rode him, or he bent his mate over whatever he could... the way his breasts jumped and swayed with their movements. Full and heavy, with his pups. That's all his alpha could see.  He didn't care anymore, or rather, he lost his rationality chasing that dream. Drawing his tongue back, Lance groaned "Alpha... need to be full" "Ride me" Eager to please, Lance crawled forward, not even pausing as he lined himself, before he dropped down solidly. Beginning to ride him, Lance threw his head back, while Keith rose, wrapping his right arm around his husband's stomach as he tried to hold him, thrusting into him as hard as he could, while his teeth tugged on Lance's ear "Alpha!" Watching Lance cum across the bed, Keith moaned, his left hand sliding up to gently grip Lance's throat as he drove up half a dozen more times before cumming with a growl. Screaming as bit his ear, Lance came again, flopping back against him, though still trying to drain every drop as he clenched and rippled around Keith's caught knot. Sucking in air, Keith laid them down, spooning around Lance and releasing his hold on his throat. He didn't even know why he'd done it "Lance?" Wriggling against him, Lance started purring as he place both their hands on his stomach. Great. Lance still wasn't thinking straight, and he couldn't exactly stop cumming.

Whether from pain or exhaustion, Lance fell asleep in his arms, and it seemed like only moment had passed when Krolia slipped into the room. Growling over the state of his vulnerable mate, his mother paid him no mind, walking over and sliding the Olkarion ring onto Lance's left ring finger where he usually wore his wedding ring "I was hoping you wouldn't have knotted him yet" Through gritted teeth, Keith kept back his alphas rage "Couldn't control myself" "The castle halls are clear, so you can head down to your room" "I'm still knotted" "I didn't need to know that... ok. I'm out of here"

When Krolia left, Keith waited until his knot was completely deflated, before lifting Lance from the bed. Nuzzling his neck, Lance didn't wake, but he did tighten his hold on Keith which was adorable. Carrying Lance down to their room, rather than the nursery, his husband was stirring in his hold as he climbed onto the bed "Keith?" "I'm here. How are you feeling?" "Sleepy, and it's coming on again. My ring!" Lance tried to fight against him. Capturing his left hand, Keith held it up "Mum found it. It's on" "Thank you" "Just let me take care of you" "Mmm, always"

* Whether because of the operation, or whatever else was going on with Lance's omega. His mate barely talked, even during the calm between his heats. He preferred to just keep his face buried against Keith's neck, even sleeping along him like that, nightmares when he didn't. The surgery had really messed with Lance's head, and hearing both Shiro's and Lotor's names falling from Lance's lips drove his second dynamic crazy. Still, the pair of them went at it like rabbits, on every single surface across the bedroom and bathroom. It was actually kind of gross if you stopped to examine not just the dried cum, but the dried milk dribbled across way too much of their room. He might... have... an ever so slight kink over how tightly Lance clenched around him, and how hard Lance came when he worked his nipples until he began to lactate. As it was, Lance's body was covered in bite marks, and possessive hickeys, but that still wasn't enough for him. Or his alpha. He wanted more of his mate and was keenly aware that he was hovering dangerously close to the edge between love and insanity.

On the last day of Lance's heat they were in the bathroom, Lance' arms around him as he fucked him against the bathroom counter, when Lance finally started to cry. Knotting him so as to avoid Lance's stomach cramps, Keith cupped his mates face and forced him to look at him as he wiped at the tracks of tears with his thumbs "Baby, what's wrong?" "I'm just... emotional from my heat" "There's more than that. You've been quite. Even when we're laying in bed together, you've still been quiet" "I... I didn't want my heat" "I know. I know you didn't" "No! You don't understand" "Then tell me" "I've been having nightmares since I came out of the pod. I know you know. They feel so real, Keith... I'm scared I'm going crazy, because it's my omega causing them, but because of them, it can't calm down. I'm starting to get scared of both Shiro and Lotor again, and we've worked so hard to move past that. I don't want to think about that" Keith snorted. He didn't mean to, but he did "Baby, you're not going crazy. I promise you" "Tell that to my omega. It decided to make me feel sick when I was touched, but decided I needed to be touched at the same time. It decided it was going to be scared of everything again, and put me in heat again, and then be mad over the nightmares. It's doing my head in" Sliding his hands up, Keith began to massage Lance's temples with his fingertips "How can I help?" "I don't know. I'm miserable and it's because of my omega right now. I don't know what to do to settle my second dynamic" "Maybe the ring will help?" "I've been wearing the ring" "You've been wearing it, while your body was having a bad heat. Your hormones were all over the place, because your body didn't know what to do. Now that you've healed, maybe it will help bring your hormones back into a normal range?" "I hope so. And that feels really good" "Good. I think after we have a shower, we should try sleep off the end of your heat" "That sound so good, but I don't think I can sleep without your knot" "Are you doubting my ability to knot you?" "No. I'm doubting my ability to sleep" "Come on you. Let's wash you off, and then you can sleep on my chest" "I want to try just sleeping in your arms... is that ok?" "You don't have to ask" "I kind of do. This heat has taken a lot out of you. You look so pale, and you've got bags under your eyes and your breathing is really raspy at night" "It's fine. Nothing a little sleep won't fix" Sighing, Lance shook his head "You know. I feel like we need another holiday already" Lifting Lance by his arse, Keith carried him into the shower "Well, this should help. Not only do we have Toral to deal with. The others had a visit from Lotor the other day..." "Why would you tell me that?! Didn't I just admit that I can't be around him right now" "You did. But don't you see, I've been with you every single moment and he hasn't done a single thing to you" "I can see where you're going, but that would be a no" "I'm just saying, even when it comes to him, I will protect you" "You have the worst ways of trying to make me feel better. But I love you anyway" "I know you do. Now, are you ready for another round?" "Another round?! You're still cumming inside of me!" Tickling Lance's sides, his mate giggled as he rested his forehead on Keith's shoulder "So, is that a no?" "It's not a no" "So it's a yes" "I think maybe we should shower, and then I think I want to ride you" "Really?" "Yep" Popping the "p", Lance looked up so he could smirk at him "Maybe you are crazy?" "I have to be for putting up with you" "Hey!" "It's true. Now shower me, and then take me back to bed" "Is that an order?" "Does it have to be?" "I kind of like it when you boss us all around" "In that case, I'm ordering you to shower me, then take me to bed and let me ride you until I drop" "If that's the orders you're going to give, feel free to take on the role of Black Paladin" Shutting him up with a kiss, Keith was definitely going to obey Lance's orders, down to the tiniest and most minute detail.

* Leading Keith through the castle, Lance found himself a laughing mess. He and his alpha had run out of food, and as his heat was pretty much over, the pair of them were trying to sneak from their bedroom to the kitchen without being sprung, only, Keith wouldn't keep his hands to himself, and Lance's heat wasn't quite as over as he'd thought it was. Yet nothing was going to get between him and food. Not when it felt like his stomach was trying to eat itself and wouldn't stop growling.

Leaning to spy around a corner of the final stretch, Keith groped him, before pulling him back and pinning him against the wall. Laughing as he tried to push him off, Keith placed a hand over his mouth and half fell as he tried to peak for himself, without letting go "I can see the target in sight. I think we're clear" "I could have told you that" "I know, but I'm supposed to protect you" Wrapping his arms around Keith, Lance dropped a quick kiss on his lips, before lifting him off his feet "What are you doing?" "You can be my human shield" "How's that going to work?" "Well, if someone sees us or shoots at us, you take the hit and I get to make a break for it" Kicking himself out of his hold, Keith feigned announce "How does that work out for me?" "Pretty good. Considering I'm starving and it's some how taken vargas to get up here from our room" "It hasn't taken vargas" "I'm pretty sure my heat is more accurate than your internal clock. I'm starting to slick, so can we pleeeeease eat!" "You're starting to slick" "Mhmm" "You should have said so" With a wicked grin, Keith swept him up his arms, carrying him into the kitchen and depositing him down on the counter "What do you want to eat?" "Food. Like. Now" "What kind of food?" "Keith, if you don't find something for me to eat, I will divorce you" His husband actually paused, before running his hand through his hair "Right. Oh. Hunk's been baking" "Bring it on" Darting away from him, Keith returned with two thick cookies "Does this count?" "Where's yours?" "I can think of something else I'd rather eat" Shivering as he practically gushed slick at Keith's words, Lance didn't want to do it in the kitchen. Anywhere but Hunk's kitchen, but now he was too wet to move "Keith... not in here"

Lifting him back up, Keith carried him out and into the dining room. It wasn't much better, but now he so wet that his underwear was filled with slick and his body was demanding some kind of attention. Pulling down his sodden underwear with his teeth and the tiniest bit of help, Keith knelt between his legs before yanking him to the edge of the table and pushing him back enough that his mate could access his opening, while Lance lifted his legs onto Keith's shoulders. Moaning as he began to clean him him with his tongue, Lance began chewing on the first cookie. It was heaven, being eaten out and actually getting to eat, and by the growls Keith was making, his alpha was definitely pretty happy with the way things were currently playing out. Taking his time to finish the first cookie, Lance was finding it hard not to present. Keith was still working and teasing his him with his tongue, but now he'd also worked two fingers in, missing a few times before finally finding his sweet spot, and ruining the game they'd been playing where he teasing Keith by not openly responding as he focused on the cookie. Throwing his head back with a whine, Lance dropped down so he propped up by his elbows "Keith. Knot" "I thought we were eating" "God... does your mother know what you say and do with that mouth" "Probably. Can you make it back to our room?" "No" "Mmm, I won't tell the others if you don't" "I don't think we're going to need to tell them" "Then I better remind them who you belong you" Pulling him down off the table, Keith span him around and pushed him down against it, he wasn't surprised to find Keith had already freed his own erection from his boxers, nor how easily his alpha filled completely "I want it hard and fast" "Good, because I was nearly cumming as it was" Taking his hips, Keith drew out until the tip was just inside of him. Thrusting in sharply, his mate hit his prostate straight on, causing him to claw at the table with the need to get him even deeper. Bringing his right knee up onto the table, Keith moved to support it automatically, not breaking his rhythm at all as he did "Lance, I'm not going to last" "Good... because... argh... ah..." Grabbing his shirt, Keith pulled up as he came, meaning he came up along his chest instead of across the dining room floor. Mewing, he pushed down in preparation for Keith's knot, but at the final moment, Keith slid completely out and came across his arse, his inner thigh and down the back of his leg "Keith!" "I can't knot you here. I know your heats supposed to be over, but even as my knot was swelling, it didn't feel enough" "Wait. You didn't knot me now, because you want to take me back to our bed, and knot me over and over?" Nuzzling the back of his neck affectionately, Keith nodded "I want to take my time, and be slow and careful. When your heat ends, we go back to having responsibilities, so I want to take my time to love every inch of your body" Lance hugged. Not impressed at all. He'd been so close to being knotted... his husband was a goddamn tease "You could have just said so, instead of pulling out. I feel like crying because you didn't cum in me" "Grab your cookie, I'll carry you back down" "I'm covered in cum" "Mhmm, and the room smells of us" "Great. If they others go into a rut..." "They'll have to deal with me" Gathering up his underwear, Keith helped him back into them, before pulling him close "Keith?" "I just love you" "You "just" love me? I guess that's better than when you used to hate me" "You know I never really hated you" "Yep. But you were too busy chasing after Shiro to see my true brilliance" "Maybe. But enough about that. Hold on tight" "Just let me get my cookie" "I wouldn't dream of parting you from it" "Good alpha. You're learning" "I'll show you "good alpha"!" "Really? I thought we were going to keep doing naughty things?" "We are, but you have to admit we're good at it" Lance smiled happily as he placed his cookie between his teeth and let Keith lift him. For an end of heat, he was much more alert than normal, and after having a good cry, he was very much content with how things were now.

* Poking at his face, Lance swatted Keith's hand away "I know you're awake" "I know I'm awake. I just don't want to move" "Well, I can change that" "Keith... you only just knotted me" "I didn't only just knot you" "So waking up to you thrusting against me, was a figment of my imagination" "You're the one who started it. I was already inside of you when I woke up" "Probably because that's how we fell asleep. Now stop moving around, I want cuddles. It's so nice and warm, and perfect for cuddles" Snaking his arm around his stomach, Keith settled down behind him, pressing kisses to Lance's hair as he did "How do you feel?" "My heats over, so I'm tired, sore, happy, moody and I really just want cuddles and food" "The food fairy came while we were sleeping" "I love that fairy. I think she cleaned up too" "Yeah, last night" "That's embarrassing" "It's fine. It's her fault for having two sons that can't keep their hands off each other" "Your hands are fine, it's just the other parts of your body that cause problems" Keith rocked against him softly "Not that. Your toes. You always have cold toes!" "I do not" "You do! But I love them anyway" "Because they're mine?" "No. Because I'm amazingly forgiving like that. I wonder if she'll bring our boys in after we shower. I really need to see them" "I know not falling pregnant puts omegas in a flunk. Do they help?" "Yeah... though you didn't need to mention that" "Sorry. I just know it takes a lot out you" "It's better when I'm with you" "Team Klance" "Yeah. You and me. We could take on the world" "Mmmm... Lord Keith and his wicked omega" "More like Lord Lance and his kept alpha" "I'm down for that. Who knew leading Voltron would have so much paperwork?" "Dummy. That's why you keep notes" "Yours were pretty impressive" "I'm pretty impressive" "You are..." Purring Lance burrowed into his pillow, feeling better and more in control of his emotions than he had in movements.

After napping off and on for the next few vargas, finally the feeling of needing to be clean won out. Climbing from the bed, Keith groaned and reached for him "Where are you going?" "Shower. I want to clean up and go see the boys" "Mmm, I miss them" "Then get out of bed" "Can't you and them just come back" "Not when you're covered in slick and cum" "Oh. Good point" "Isn't it. Are you coming?" "Yeah. You should eat too" "Not yet. My stomachs still tender" "Tender?" "It's what happens when you have a lot of amazing sex" "But other than that?" "I'm good. Like, really good. My omega has settled, and even if I'm sore, it's a good kind of sore. How about you? How are you lungs? You were coughing last night" "How do you know that? You were supposed to be sleeping" "I heard you before I fell asleep, and I didn't even have a single nightmare last night" "I noticed. No offence baby, but your omega can be a bit of a quiznak" "It's pretty offended by that, but I agree. I'm ready to put this all behind me and move on" "Good. Now let's get you into the shower" Springing up from their bed, Keith threw him over his shoulder, smacking his arse as Lance howled with laughter.

Showered and dressed, Lance was pulling Keith along by the hand as they headed into the nursery. He couldn't wait another tick to see his sons, and the smile on his face when he finally did was so big it hurt. Sitting with her back against the enormous bear Pidge had bought the boys, Krolia had them both completely enthralled by the story she was reading to them. He sorely wished he had a camera to capture the moment, and the funny voices Krolia was doing for the boys. Padding softly across the room, Lance sat down and crossed his legs, while Krolia raised an eyebrow "Don't mind us" "Mhmm... how are you feeling?" "Good. Even better now I've seen the boys are still in one piece" "Of course they are. You're interrupting story time" Looking up from the book they were smacking their hands on, at the sound of his voice, both his boys lit up, practically bouncing in Krolia's lap as they tried to escape and get to him "I think story time is over. They've missed their mummy" Throwing themselves into their escape effort, Krolia lifted the book out the way and Kelance was the first from her lap. His son using one hand on Krolia's leg to pull himself up, before taking three very shaky, yet determined steps towards him "Did you guys see that?! Kelance!" Scooping his son up, he lifted him high as the boy laughed "My big boy! What about you Laneith? Are you going to walk? Krolia, how long have they been walking?!" "They've only been crawling for me. I was hoping I'd get to see them walk" "My babies are so smart! They get that from their daddy" "And their mum" "And their grandmother" Laneith was slower as he slid from Krolia's lap, crawling over to him rather than walking. Sitting Kelance down in his hold, he lifted his Laneith up and sat him down next to him, hugging both his babies tight "How were they? Did they eat? Are they hungry?" "They've had solids everyday, but mostly formula.

[regrettablewritings]

The Hairy Situation (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

A/N: *screeches* I … HAVE DONE SOMETHING!!! @mrsrafaelbarba, your hairy chariot (hairiot) awaits … And @xemopeachx and @ohbelieveyoume because everyone has to suffer and remember this costume failure of the follicles. ... This...follicular fashion faux pas. Ahem, anyway, enjoy with much cringe as you recall the two episodes that have gone down in hairy infamy.

Your right eye twitched as you watched Sonny raise his coffee to his lips. It was a habit of yours, appearing whenever you got a little too antsy to properly contain your more invigorated feelings. While Sonny was not necessarily the best with reading the room, he always seemed capable enough whenever it pertained to those in need. Especially when it pertained to you.

You couldn’t tell if he was too lost in his espresso to notice your mood or if he knew exactly what you were feeling and was just trying to play coy and/or annoy you further.  There was a good chance it was the latter, though: You had danced the same routine with him for the past week, and Sonny, in his typical spontaneous nature, had taken to adding his own moves to counter your routine. It was maddening, made even worse by his “Sonnshiny nature,” as you tended to call it.

As he lowered his mug, satisfied with the gulps he’d taken, Sonny glanced up at you just in time to notice your expression changing slightly. Your lips had been midway through a grimace before they rolled into your mouth for your teeth to bite down on. But there was no way for you to hide the expression your eyes held. More specifically, there was no way to pretend as those you hadn’t been intently staring at the area right below his nose.

At that, Sonny’s fingers drew themselves to his upper lip, pulling back to find bits of foam on their tips. He cracked a smile; the one that had given you no choice but to fall in love with him the first time you’d seen it.

“Ha! Lookit that,” he chuckled before pointing to the area above his mouth. “Foam mustache!”

If only either of you were so lucky as for it to still make you swoon.

You’d just barely managed to keep your fist’s collision to the table as soft as it could possibly be without rattling your breakfast plates and cups.

“Foam mustache?” you cried. “Foam friggen mustache!?” Your hands flew into the air as though your frustrations were exiting them like an inflatable tube man at a car dealership. “What the hell about the real one!? What about the – Don’t you give me that look!” You pointed an accusatory finger at the culprit, but it was too late: His blond brows had furrowed over his beautiful, blue eyes, and his mouth turned upward as if to mimic a confused pout.

Regularly, such a gesture would have melted your heart in an instant, causing you to fawn over your puppy-like boyfriend. But that … that abomination above his lip! Its presence practically concealed the cute frown, besmirching it entirely with its obscene presence! It demanded more power to adore than what you were capable of giving.

A groan rippled out of your throat as you flopped back in your seat, defeated.

“Sonny,” you muttered. “Sonny. Baby. Sweetie. Sonnshine. Teddy. Puppy-boo.” Every word was tenser than the last, forming a coil of agitation and desperation. By the time you’d reached the end of your list (and with “Honey-poo,” no less), the coil was fully compressed and your exhausted expression was, once again, planted on him. Or, more specifically, the object of your abhorrence.

“Please,” you whimpered, “please, just shave that thing. I forget what your lips look like!”

At this, the pitiful expression gave way to Sonny rolling his eyes.

“For the last time, (Y/N), I’m not shaving it. This,” he gestured to the facial hair as if it were a work of art, “This is the end result of blood, sweat, tears, and testosterone. This is a wearable symbol of status!”

Your eye lids drooped with aloofness. “ ‘Status’?” you echoed. “The only status having that mustache gives you is looking like Douche Prime.”

“Hey, now,” the man gently admonished. “Firefighters get mustaches like this all the time, and you never say a word about them!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not dating a firefighter wearing a schnauzer tail on his face. Nor am I kissing one, feeling his mustache-induced burn when he kisses me, feeling it scratch against my shoulder in the dead of night, causing me to think that Death’s spooky-ass hand is trying to tickle me – ”

“I get it, I get it.”

“Do you? Really? Then shave it!”

“No!”

“Why not!?”

“We’ve been over this, (Y/N), it makes me look cool!”

“It makes you look like you took the brush off of a vacuum nozzle and glued it to your lip.”

“Whatever,” Sonny scoffed, taking one last swig from his mug. “Gotta go, we won’t finish this later.” He pushed himself out of his chair, pulling his jacket off the back of it and putting his arms through the sleeves.

“But – ” you protested. You were quickly stopped by the prickly goodbye kiss that your boyfriend pressed against your forehead.

“Have a good day, sweetie,” he murmured, offering you one last smile before heading out the door. Loving as he was, he didn’t want to stick around for the fussing he’d likely get for touching you with the object of your burning hatred. Even if it was pretty funny to see you stumble over your words. In the end, however, no such fuss came. You were just too tired.

Instead, you sat at the table alone. Your body, uncertain as to whether a frontwards flop or a backwards flop was the appropriate position for defeat, slouched somewhat to the side. Your mind, however, was abuzz with thought. You loved Sonny’s kisses, they were always just so soft and sweet with the very essence of his affections for you coming through every one he applied. Unfortunately, with the presence of that hairy smear above his top lip, his kisses were less soft. And the feeling of affection didn’t seem as concentrated, apparently having been caught up in the bushy hairs. Not at all unlike how the brushes of a vacuum sweep up and cling to dirt.

You thought that your Sonny was the cutest boyfriend in all of New York, possibly even in all of the country. But then, of course you did: every person with a boyfriend thought that theirs was the absolute cutest. The only difference between you and them was that you were confident that you were the closest to being correct.

And, indeed, Sonny was quite adorable. A Labrador who gained human form and decided to get a job in law enforcement. Sure, he was notorious for being a blunt blabbermouth who wasn’t too good with words, but that was for those who didn’t know him. If the right amount of time was spent around him, warming up in some way would be inevitable – he was just so darn endearing! That being said, it was all too easy for you to become a little overprotective towards him in some regards pertaining to his profession.

You had openly voiced your concerns upon his announcement that he’d offered to go undercover for Brooklyn’s sting operation as a john. He’d only just gotten into the precinct about a week prior and he was already putting his narrow ass in danger? What, did he want to get out this relationship that badly?

Of course he didn’t, he just really liked to help. (Sonny also really liked doing UC work. If his heart weren’t in the legal system, it could have potentially found a home in the performing arts.) He kept insisting in the weeks leading up to the operation that everything would be fine and that he would be safe but nothing he said managed to convince you entirely, and you just weren’t the sort of woman to go overly-invested-high-school-mother and march down to the precinct demanding that he either be guarded 24/7 by an undercover The Rock, or that he be removed from the case entirely and put on desk duty. Therefore, Sonny stayed as an undercover pervert.

And, as he promised, things went pretty alright, so long as “alright” just meant that he came out alive and unflappable. But now, with that problem out of the way, there lay your next biggest concern: The mustache.

Sonny had already been growing some facial stubble by the time he got transferred from Staten Island; a side effect of working long nights and under such a short period of time. He’d simply become too tired to really care about whether or not he was clean-shaven, something that you were completely understanding of. By the time of the Brooklyn operation, however, Sonny had gotten into a better swing of things, and the mustache practically in full-bloom. By then, Sonny had insisted that it would only sell the image of being a john further, having seen facial hair as a common trait amongst the sleazier end of the scale and how, generally speaking, it simply sold a better image than if he looked baby-faced.

You had to admit that he had a bit of a point there. Understanding of his reasoning, you went along with it.

In truth, you couldn’t wait for him to shave that thing off using a lawnmower but, then again, it wasn’t just a regular gross mustache – it was a working ‘stache. A ‘stache with a purpose. You supposed you could tolerate just a bit longer.

But then the sting came and went. And the mustache only stayed. It had been nearly a month.

Apparently, some guys down at the station also had mustaches. Guys who had a decent reputation as highly capable law enforcers. This, added with the uncountable number of other mustachioed officers, gave Sonny new consideration over his newest feature. The consideration being that there was no longer anything to consider: He was keeping the thing. And no amount of jokes, pleads, nags, etc could convince him otherwise.

You knew this because you had tried. In between paperwork and editing at your own job and almost always during your lunch breaks, you could be found at your desk or at the nearby café trying to concoct a plan to exorcize the little hair demon residing on your boyfriend’s face.

But after about a month and a few days of near-constant pestering, you were running out of options. You almost considered asking your coworker for some input, but God forbid you get gossipy Nora involved. You tried not to resort to such juvenile means. Tried very hard to avoid stoop. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and the desire to take a nap without the fear of being woken up by having a mini broom scraped against your face was bending your morals a bit.

Time to make light use of one of the most problematic, overly romanticized concepts known to relationship-kind: jealousy. Sonny was, by his own admission, potentially sensitive. Certainly moody, if anything. He wasn’t necessarily the jealous type, however, trusting you enough to not blink an eye at the mention or presence of your guy friends or celebrity crushes. But if you played certain cards right, then maybe … Just maybe …

Elsewhere, Sonny’s phone vibrated against his desk. It signaled a message from you. And in that elsewhere, he would find that your message contained an image of Ezra Miller, circa 2010, with his clean-shaven pretty boy face gracing the screen. Not even five seconds after having received the picture, Sonny would then have received an actual text:

“He’s cute! 😚” you wrote. Not as cute as your Sonny, of course, but Sonny didn’t need to know that, you decided smugly. Keep it short and simple so that it wasn’t too obvious what your intentions were, and let it all unfold naturally. Placing your phone back down to your desk, you complacently returned back to editing the latest presentation script.

You phone buzzed. The word bubble on the left side of your screen read, “Shouldn’t you be working??” Your smirk deepened. He was avoiding the question.

Your fingers rapidly typed against the appropriate keys, writing out, “I am … But I can’t help but also get distracted by this little guy. Lookithimlookithimlookithim!!” You scrolled through your photo app to find the pre-saved photos of babyface Ezra for this very tactic before adding three of them to your message. You felt a feeling of satisfaction dwell within you as you hit “send.”

Brrrrbbb, your phone hummed, causing you to pick it up and analyze the growing situation.

“Yeah, but you know who else is ‘cute’? That one guy from Daredevil.”

Your brows knitted a centimeter’s worth of perplexity.

“Charlie Cox?” you texted back. A little less than a minute later, your phone hummed.

“Yeah, him! Y’know, he’s actually not that clean-shaven in real life.” What the – ? Where was he going with this? The low woosh of a second text coming in sounded. “He’s actually a hairy guy. Shoulda been called Hairdevil if you ask me :P”

You sat there, staring at the text. Your lips were pressed together, unimpressed. The sly bastard had managed to not only play a proper piece to your game, but he also found a way to throw in a goddang pun while doing so! But, on top of that, damn: He got you there, pointing out Charlie Cox’s regularly hirsute appearance. But only for a moment, at least. Early-2010s Ezra Miller wasn’t the only brand of ammo you had in your magazine.

“Tru,” you admitted. “But dang, if that mouth of his ain’t practically obscene when he’s playing Matt. All noticeable and kissable without any distractions …”

Sonny’s response: “I’d say he looks friendlier with the hair. More lovable and protective.”

You rolled your eyes and fought the urge to send a corresponding emoji in response. Instead, you thought for a moment. You concluded that it was time to switch bullet-types. “Evan Peters is also cute, tho 😗.”

“Fox’s Quicksilver? Idk I think the guy from AoU was a tad cooler.” Translation: The guy who’s actually capable of growing facial hair and has a noted mustache was cooler than the baby-faced guy. But you weren’t giving up yet!

Phantom-Era Ramin Karimloo.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

Taron Egerton.

Idris Elba.

Daniel Henney.

Tom Hardy.

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson!

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson with facial hair!

It went on like this, and for longer than what you would have liked. Both because you didn’t appreciate your plan for coming so undone, but also because lord, there was an uncomfortable amount of actors who managed to work their mustaches. Worse was that more often than not, the actors you would name or could name were made even sexier with the addition of facial hair combinations. Styles which, more often than not, included a mustache of some breed.

This caused you to have a relatively short list to begin with. You struggled to search through what already few men you had left in your artillery before finding your next best bet.

“Jon Bernthal has a clean-shaven ruggedness to him, I find 😊,” you finally wrote. You had tried to sound innocuous about it but the image you attached of Jon in his role as the bloodied and bruised Frank Castle decently captured how you were really feeling. You had to fight the urge to slam your phone down, knowing that it would’ve been pointless to get so frustrated over something so laughably bizarre. But dammit, you hated how you were losing at the very game you had initiated! And besides, your magazine was running low. As it turns out, facial hair tended to make a lot of men even more attractive than usual. Especially if they had that beard and mustache combo going on. But God forbid Sonny learn this and take it as an “okay” to go and grow a beard …

Two minutes had gone by and still no response. You were beginning to question if an inward celebration was appropriate to plan for. Sonny had replied almost immediately to the previous messages, and right about now should’ve been his lunch break. Maybe . . . you had finally won? Did you finally manage to make a mustachioed disaster-oed man rethink his life decisions that had led up to this point?

It was about three minutes after you had first sent your text that your cellular device began to hum with life.

“You know that? You’re right. I’m sorry, baby: This mustache is a smear upon our otherwise wonderful relationship and I deeply apologize for letting it come between us, both physically and metaphorically. In fact, I will be taking the rest of the day off to not only shave it, but seek out a laser hair removal specialist to assure that no such abomination can ever stand a chance at rebirthing bigger and bushier than ever. I love you so much and plan on returning home with a fresh, clean face, your favorite meal from your favorite takeout place, and a strong desire to watch Lucifer, even though I’m still not entirely sure where I stand with a show where the Devil is portrayed as a gorgeous, well-meaning and emotional pianist. Love you 😘 💛 💙 💜 💚.”

That would have been the ideal message to receive, especially after experiencing a time gap that had lasted longer than all the other ones. But alas, life was not ideal. Even with Sonny. Especially with a stubborn, mustachioed Sonny.

“Weren’t you just drooling over his character in Me & Earl & the Dying Girl the other night?” Sonny reminded.

Shit!

That stupidly hot history teacher with the sweet ink and well-groomed beard-and-mustache look! Jon Bernthal was already an attractive man without facial hair but … there was just something so sexually blissful about that man whenever he grew that beard and mustache. So suave and tough, a style that so few men could properly do with such dangerous class. Like he could kick somebody’s ass with one hand and present you with a cup of your favorite pho in the other. But … but Sonny sure as hell couldn’t pull that kind of thing off! How dare he overstep his boundaries and lowkey threaten to attempt for Mr. McCarthy’s Cool Teacher™ trimmings?

Your fingers flew over the keys of your phone with frustration in every stroke, delivering the message, “No! I was appreciating his character’s, well, character!! He was barely in the thing but still left an impact, okay!?!”

“lol whatever you say babe :P,” Sonny responded.

Boy, did you suddenly long for the days of flip phones, when you could signify your exasperation and/or anger by dramatically slapping your predominate mode of communication shut at the end of your conversations. There was just something so unsatisfactory about angrily pressing the off button on your phone, then gingerly placing it face down at last minute so as to preserve the already chipped glass of the touch screen. After which, the spirit of victory evacuated your body at such a break-neck speed that you nearly slammed your face against your desk in defeat. You were going to have to come up with a new plan …

Speaking of which … You looked at that had been sitting on your screen since earlier. It required further proofing from your end but at this rate, it wasn’t getting anything closer to done. You took that (and your increasing hangry-ness) as an opportunity to clock out for lunch. Better to have that excuse, instead of insisting to your waiting associate that work had been delayed for the sake of trying to remove a facial vandalism that wasn’t even yours.

It had been two weeks since the little hairy competition between Sonny and yourself. Two weeks of recycling old ideas over and over, albeit with waning intensity. But finally, finally did you have a plan! A plan that involved tape, Google searches, and plenty of hours on Photoshop.

The latter requirement was a part of why you had lost so much time on the nagging. You had actually forced yourself to cut back on verbally scolding Sonny about the thing out of the sheer bitterness that you would feel if he finally gave in before your self-assignment was complete, rendering your Photoshop exploits useless. But after so many hours of working when Sonny was out of the house or nights when he was home and sleeping, you had finally finished it! Now, all you needed was Sonny.

Well, that, and the ability to keep a straight face. To be fair, you thought you’d had that part down to a science: You just needed to bite your bottom lip and inhale deeply and any fizzle of a giggle dwelling in your throat would start to dwindle. But the moment you heard Sonny’s key click into the lock of the apartment, you made a break for it, practically sprinting into the bedroom in the back so that he couldn’t witness your dismantling.

You’d just barely made it through to the sound-stifling mattress when you heard Sonny announcing his return home, followed by the door being shut and locked. With the sound of your boyfriend kicking off his shoes, the clock had begun. Every footstep he took further into the apartment was the tick of time going by until he realized that something was amiss. And then – they stopped. Dead in his tracks, likely right by the kitchen if you had to approximate it based on the echoes of his feet as they walked him backwards a few paces.

The oxymoronically quiet but blaring utterance of, “What the …?” proved your approximation to be correct. The next few steps that gently thudded against the hardwood flooring seemed to become increasingly sporadic, if not weighted by the sudden stops every other step. It wasn’t even an entire minute before you heard Sonny calling your name.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” The footfalls moved with purpose towards your poorly-planned hiding place of complete visibility on the bed. You barely had any time to scramble up, grab a book from the nightstand on your side, and create the image of composure by the time Sonny stopped at the threshold.

You could only afford to offer him the briefest of glances, lest you break down into plot-killing laughter, and even that was more than enough! With that brow-furrowed expression on his face and severed chipmunk tail above it lip, it looked as though all the hair on his face was preparing to mug his eyes.

Calm, you told yourself. Bite the lip; inhale deeply …

“Hey, babe,” you greeted, turning a page you hadn’t even read yet. “How was work?” Sonny’s eyes squinted incredulously. Instead of recounting how “the boys” gave him their usual tough love, he pulled a photo into view.

“What is this?” he asked rhetorically. You offered one last glance, this time focusing in the general direction of the picture to give the illusion of looking exactly at it. From your peripheral vision, you could recognize the frame: Thick, black, and simple, it usually sat on the table right by the front door, encasing the image of one lanky, teenaged Sonny standing beside his first car. A rusty, blue jalopy, but he couldn’t have been prouder of owning that jalopy. But now, as the fully-grown Sonny held it, the frame held a different image.

It was still of Sonny, no doubt, but it was an adult Sonny. An adult Sonny with hair whose length teased just above his jean jacket-clad shoulders. Well, somebody’s jean jacket-clad shoulders. The tight, high-waisted jeans literally hugging the lower body area left very little to the imagination and stood out glaringly against the pale yellow of the souped up Ford Maverick his figure was coolly leaning against. Well, stood out the best that it could at least. The grainy filter that the image had been saturated in made everything slightly more sepia but all the more of an eye sore. There were only two things that remained true to the real life Carisi: His face and the goddang mustache. And frankly, the bushy facial hair seemed to fit right in far more than his face.

Your eyes flew back to the pages of your book, focusing on brown imperfections from wood pulp to mute any laughing threat you had.

“It’s a photo, Sonny,” you replied coolly. You needn’t look up to know that he was lightly glaring at you.

“I can see that,” he replied dryly. “But what I mean is what – ? What exactly is going on in this photo?”

“I’m afraid that I don’t know what you mean, hun.”

“You mind lookin’ me in the eye and sayin’ that?” Indeed, you did, but there was no way you could tell him that and win. Though you had a sinking feeling that the slow movements made to lift your head up and zero in on his baby blues told him enough.

Bite your lip. Breathe.

“I am afraid,” you spoke slowly, “that I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Seriously?” Sonny scoffed, pointing a finger at the edited image of himself. “You seriously see nothing wrong with this?”

“I do not,” you stated.

“I look like my father in this!”

“Well, maybe that’s where your mustache belongs: On some guy who lived through the jean-clad 70s!”

“Then why was a cutout of it taped to that thrift shop painting!?”

“Maybe the 70s version of you wanted to show how psychedelic he was leaning against a giant bowl of fruit!” you cried, throwing your hands up into the air. And with your attempt at aloofness went your guard: The laughter followed almost immediately. Well, your laughter; Sonny remained standing at the threshold, just staring at the frame in his hands before looking at your guffawing form curl up against the mattress.

“How long did this take you to even do?” he asked above your laughs. You only managed to whimper breathlessly the amount of time as you squeezed your aching gut but Sonny had heard plenty. You didn’t see him lick his lips and nod along to your answer. But you did hear the click of his phone’s camera as he snapped a picture of the edited image.

“W-what are you doing?” you wheezed, looking up at him. Sonny shrugged.

“Takin’ a photo. My mom would love this, she’d say it looks like my dad, too.” He then turned around, leaving you confused and no longer laughing. The silence was soon filled with yet another click.

“Hey …” you whined, climbing off the bed. When you found Sonny he was only a few paces away, taking a photo of that thrift store painting of a bowl of fruit. Specifically, the cutout of his edited image you’d taped on to an apple in said painting. By the time words had found you, he was already moving on to another picture – one where you’d pasted his mustached mug over a photo of your chubby baby cousin.

“What’re you doing?” you repeated. With a smile present on his features, Sonny, only glanced at you before returning focus back to his camera.

“I told you: Takin’ pictures for my mom. She loves stuff like this!” Click. You blinked rapidly.

“Uh … Sonny?” you began. “This … I mean, I was sorta hoping – ”

“That this’d influence what I’d do with my mustache? No; sorry, princess. But,” his grin widened as he scrolled through his newest photo file additions, “I do have to commend the creativity.” He looked up at you. “I love that this is what you went with!” You were too stunned to deny the scruffy kiss he affectionately pressed to your nose. By the time the feeling registered, your face was curling into one of anguish.

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny, Sonny!” you cried.

“No,” he agreed, “but it is.”

You had to fight internally against the urge to slap your own face off.

“Take this seriously! Don’t you see what that mustache is making you?! You look like somebody’s weird uncle who never let the 70s go and gave them their first sip of beer because ‘they were the cool one’!”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“With a porno stache!”

“Hey …!”

“But am I wrong?! No! Please, please, please get rid of that thing before it compels you to start investing in tie dye ties and jackets with fringe!” You groaned as you pressed your hand against your face.

“Just … please, baby,” you whimpered behind your palms, walking closer toward him. Your hands then found new purchase on his shoulders as you looked up to him, giving him the most pitiful puppy pout you could offer with a twitching eyebrow. “Don’t let my hours on Photoshop go to waste.” From the silence and way that he’d tucked his lips in, you half-heartedly hoped that maybe this had gotten the point across. His poor long-suffering girlfriend, at the end of her rope …

“Okay, okay, it won’t,” he gave in. You gasped quietly.

“Really?” you asked. Your query was dripping with optimism as cocked your head. You could feel your heart practically bubbling with joy as Sonny nodded.

“Yeah …” He placed a hand on one of your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “… Because the boys down at the station are gonna love this. Can’t wait to show ‘em!” In that moment, everything plummeted with an unceremonious flop: Your glimmer of hope, your heart, and your entire body as you fell to your knees in defeat. You couldn’t even release a dramatic, long, “no” to complement your collapse. Too bad; would’ve been nice to use that to drown out the sound of Sonny enthusiastically ringing his mom to tell her about the interesting welcome home he’d received.

It was amazing how much could change with time, how fleeting it could feel under the right circumstances.

For Sonny, all of it flew by so quickly: In the span of only a few weeks, he’d been transferred from Brooklyn to Queens. And after only a week, Queens had passed him off to Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit. And where Sonny went, so did that mustache, now a few months old. And as much as you wanted to continue openly stewing and scheming about it, time had a way of casting events that could change one’s mindset.

The implications of Sonny’s transfers leave much to be double-guessed and while Sonny seemed to be taking the frequent pass-offs in stride, a part of you couldn’t help but worry for him. Sonny was a bit of an acquired taste and unfortunately, not many in his line of work seemed to have the palate for him. As his loving girl, it sort of became like a duty to assure that when he came home, there was an air of comfort and understanding to greet him. Particularly when his recounting of his first day suggested that he wasn’t exactly candidate for teacher’s pet.

You gave him all that you could, including massages, kisses, cuddles, extra nuzzles as he slept. But, most notably, you cut back on the mustache reproaching to the point of it becoming dormant. Oh, certainly, you inwardly groused about the way corn nibblets would stick to it during dinner, or how it prickled your skin even when you were the one directing the lip to lip kisses. But nary a word was spoken that admitted to such (though you had a feeling that Sonny had an idea of it). You almost could’ve sworn that you had begun to sink into a pit of bitter acceptance as the days went by. After all, there was only so much kissing and cuddling one could do because they just became numb to that face-bristle …

Thank God that turned out to not be the case. The moment Sonny indicated that he might’ve found a home in the Manhattan SVU was the moment the cobweb-covered cogs in your Plotting Department began whirring back to life. Unfortunately, with all the time that had passed (and the schemes used before), there was only so much you could still use.

It was as you left work one evening and decided to stop by a McDonald’s for a drink that an idea dawned upon you …

Sonny was hungry more than he was tired that day. All the running around and sudden calls for leads on the current investigation ultimately left little time for him to truly relish his lunch break and only burn off more energy. By the end of his shift, all he wanted to do was go home and relax. Besides, today was your day to cook and he couldn’t wait to see what you had in store.

But as he walked through the door and called out to say that he was home, he realized something: No smells, no sounds. Not of the timer ticking as the oven warmed a casserole, not of the stove sizzling a greased skillet, and not even the humming of the microwave. There wasn’t even the smell of hot takeout wafting in the air.

He glanced back down at the tile flooring of the walk-in area. Your shoes were there, so there was no chance that you were running behind. And the entire point of the whole “I cook this day, you cook that day” compromise was exactly that: a compromise, something to be upheld on both ends! Something was amiss.

With cautious steps, Sonny walked further into the apartment.

“Honey?” he called out. He glanced in every direction until – His eyes narrowed as his brows creased. Did … Did he just see movement from the kitchen? He ventured closer. And sure enough, there you were, elbows on the table, fingers laced, expression completely nonchalant as if there weren’t a bunch of McDonald’s cups taking up a good portion of the little nook.

You didn’t even give him a chance to ask what the hell was going on before you greeted him with a calm, “Hello, Sonnford. I’ve been expecting you.”

Sonny pursed his lips as his eyes flickered from McDonald’s cup to McDonald’s cup. He counted eight.

“Uuuhhh …” he managed. He waved a finger to point at the general group of cups. “What … is all this exactly?” He almost wanted to regret asking you that, given the smirk you now wore.

“I’m so glad you asked,” you purred. Slamming your hands on the table, you nearly knocked your chair over as you jumped out of your seat to cry out, “Dominick Nathaniel Carisi!” Now it was your turn to point a finger at him.

“That’s not my middle name and you know it – ”

“I challenge you to a . . . to a wager!” If he weren’t so hungry, Sonny would’ve found the evil grin you were attempting to be cute… . Ah, hell: It was still a bit cute, if not worrisome. He inhaled deeply as he began to rub his eyes with.

“Okay, okay … So I’m guessin’ that the wager has something to do with these …?”

“Milkshakes,” you finished wickedly. “Courtesy of our good friend, Ronald D. McDonald.” This prompted a piteous groan from your would-be opponent as he lulled his head back and squeezed his eyes shut.

“You couldn’t have just gotten some burgers while you were there? Not even some fries!?” he whined.

“Hush, take this seriously,” you glowered. “Anyway!” (You regained composure) “Here’s the deal: We have, as you can see, eight milkshakes – four for you, four for me. Whoever drinks the most or all of them in the shortest amount of time wins. So! If you win, I’ll accept our pet gorilla thumb as a part of our imploding family. But if I win …” You made a grin that would make any mustache-twirling villain proud. “If I win, that keratin hellspace taking residency on that mug of yours has to go.” You paused for thought. “And you can never grow another one. Capiche?”

The pitiful look on Sonny’s face was still quite present as he pouted at you. But, as always, the usual attempt for sympathy was ruined by that hairy food trap that led you down this road of insanity. You would not be swayed any longer. And judging by the heavy sigh of defeat, Sonny knew this.

“I don’t suppose there’s any dinner to eat before this, huh?” he asked, daring to hope.

“Nope,” you confirmed, popping the ‘p.’ “Just you, me, and these milkshakes: The thick, mortal enemy of mustaches.”

“If I agree to this, can I order a pizza or something?”

“Do whatever you like, you’re still gonna do this.”

“…” The things people do for love. That, and at this point it became evident that there was no way out of your little harebrained scheme. Besides, he supposed, something in the stomach was better than nothing. Or waiting nearly an hour for anything. Might as well. Dropping his briefcase to the floor, he trudged up to the seat across from you, prompting your smile of victory.

“Glad you could join us, Sonnspot,” you teased. Sonny rolled his eyes. When he became adjusted enough, you straightened your posture. “Ready?”

Sonny grunted. Good enough.

“Good!” you chirped. “On your mark!” You leaned yourself in closer to the table. “Get set!” Sonny readied his hand to grab the milkshake cup closest to him. You inhaled. “G – ”

“ – ooooohhh …” you whimpered against the table. As you rubbed a hand over your aching stomach, a hiccup rattled your body. Not enough to cause nausea, but just enough for you to cringe from the additional discomfort it had created. Needless to say, the wager was a bust. A huge bust. Part of you wished you had the ability to go back in time and throw a milkshake at your past self for even coming up with the idea. Of course, this was an impossibility: Not only because of the issues arising from quantum mechanics and theories, but also because there were no milkshakes to spare.

You could hear the sound of a straw slurping up the last of its cup’s contents, creating a death rattle. This was then followed by the sound of its producer expelling a sigh of relieved refreshment. This was the sound of a happy Sonny Carisi. One who, while maybe not fed a proper meal, was just glad to have something in his system after a long day of work. Well, five and a half somethings.

You’d only made it through two and a half milkshakes before your body betrayed you and made you throw in the towel. Sonny was all too happy to take the remaining treats off of your hands. Apparently, milkshakes stood a chance with this barber-dodging buffoon. You maneuvered your head just enough to glare at him. How could you be so foolish as to challenge a man from an Italian family to an eating competition? He’d grown up eating copious amounts of food – heavier, in fact! It was that damn, skinny physique of his that threw you for so many curveballs. You meant to glare even harder at him but then failed when another pang of pain bubbled in your gut.

The grunt of discomfort managed to take Sonny out of his state of satisfactory and shoot you a worried look.

“Oh, you really don’t look so good,” he stated bluntly. You narrowed your eyes weakly and huffed as hard as you could without making your stomach quiver.

“No shit,” you said through clenched teeth.

“You oughta go lie down,” he instructed.

“Ugh,” you groaned, but found yourself too uncomfortable to be difficult. You’d barely managed to push your body upwards when you felt your boyfriend already by your side.

As he gingerly took your hands and tried to hold you up, he uttered, “Why don’t you go lay down in bed, huh? I’ll get you some Pepto or something and a heating pad.” To his surprise, you still didn’t offer a fight. Instead, you sighed, hanging your head as you barely nodded it. You were in no state to make an argument of any kind.

After all, you’d lost the wager.

You’d been stuck in the fetal position for what felt like hours. Not only to further press the heating pad against your throbbing tummy, but also because it was the best position to deliver the notion that you were hanging your head in shame. Not that Sonny seemed to notice, of course. But then, did you really want him to?

Truth be told, you weren’t sure. All that you did know was that you felt awful and in more than just a physical way. It wasn’t even really about the fact that you’d lost. It was more so about the fact that you’d lost a competition that was meant to boss your loved one around, make him change something, and that he still treated you fine anyway. For God’s sake, the man came home tired and hungry, the last thing he probably wanted was to have his seemingly loving girlfriend demand that he chug four milkshakes for the right to keep a mustache of all things! And yet, he cooperated anyway. Not only that, but he didn’t brag or anything; he just took one look at you and immediately went to work taking care of you. Basically, Sonny was just being a good boyfriend.

But if that was the case, then what the heck were you? You’d been spending the last two hours wondering this as you lay in bed, trying to soothe away the pain that you’d caused yourself. And so far, the only conclusions you could come up with were bad ones: You were the type of girlfriend who’d try to flood her boyfriend with facial hairless actors to invoke jealousy; edited images of her boyfriend as a 70s porno stache-wearing uncle then plastered them everywhere; and then went out to buy a bunch of milkshakes for a wager that she couldn’t even win when she could’ve been spending that time or money holding up her end of the every-other-day compromise. And all over some mustache!

You couldn’t even hold back your criticisms of it unless it was out of pity. You were just so wrapped up in the superficial looks of your beau that you barely acknowledged his consistent kindness and humor towards you as anything other than a nuisance whenever they foiled your plans.

What a horrid girlfriend!

You would have curled further into yourself if it was possible. Maybe … Maybe you really were the one in the wrong for not accepting that unshaven bushy blunder. It was at this moment that the bedroom door creaked open quietly before closing just as gently, alerting you of the man of the hour’s arrival. By now, it was probably time for him to turn in. You felt bad; he was going to bed filled with milkshakes instead of a nice, healthy meal. You didn’t dare look at him, ashamed. He said nothing as he walked over to his side of the bed, nor as he caused the mattress to dip. He was probably unsure of what to say; maybe didn’t even feel that it was his job to say anything. Fair enough.

But you just couldn’t think of the right words to say. And so you remained quiet, even as he leaned over to you and placed a kiss against your cheek.

…

Wait.

Your eyes nearly bulged in their sockets as the sensation of the kiss dwelled and burrowed into your skin. It was soft. It was smooth. It was … hairless?

Your brain wasn’t fast enough in its efforts to stop your body from making the sudden movements of unfurling and flipping to your side to face him. But for the split second that you could observe him before the milkshakes inside hit the walls of your stomach, your suspicions were proven correct.

There he was. Your Sonny: Freshly showered and, most importantly, freshly shaven. And now, due to your jolting, newly startled.

“Whoa,” he said, placing a hand on your waist. “Easy there! I’m glad you’re finally moving after all this time but remember to take it ea – ”

“Your upper lip!” you exclaimed. “It’s still there!” Your fingers flew up to press against the hairless flesh. Smooth as a baby.

Sonny offered a gentle chuckle. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Man alive, you never knew it’d be possible to be in love with such a physical feature. But you supposed that absence made the heart grow fonder in some respects. And yet, in your enthusiasm, you had to ask …

“But … why?” you inquired. Sonny raised his brows in question. “Why’d you shave it? Why now, after all that time I spent pestering you about it?”

“Oh,” he hummed. He sighed through his nose, the hot air hitting your fingertips. “Well … If I may say so, I was honestly getting a bit worried about you.” Now came your turn to expression confusion.

“Worried? Why? I was the one making a jackass out of herself over an upper lip toupee. If anything, I should be apologizing to you: I was over here, doing all kinds of things to make you change something you liked and all you ever did was go along with it like it was nothing.”

Sonny winced. “Yeah, but that’s because they were all nothing. I mean, until now. At first, it was cute stuff. Simple stuff,” he elaborated. “Things like trying to make me jealous or pointing out funny stuff – like kinda thing doesn’t really bother me. But milkshake-drinking competitions? You were making yourself sick. I know it was a small start but I didn’t want it to progress, so …” He shrugged.

“So…you got rid of it so I wouldn’t hurt myself?” you finished.

“Yup.”

“… That was all I had to do!?”

“Don’t take this lightly, (Y/N), you had me worried that you were gonna hurl!”

“ ‘Gonna’? I’m still very much at risk for that, thank you very much.”

“Awwww,” he cooed, offering you that pout of his. It was the first time in ages that it had some sort of hold on you. “You want a tummy rub?” At this offer, you lit up. Well, as much as your sickly state would allow.

“Yes, please,” you cheered. As you felt a familiar hand replace the heating pad and gently rub the pain away in circles, you decided to use one last act of selfishness in regards to this whole mustache fiasco. Something to indulge un after having been so long without them.

“Um, Sonny?” you whispered.

“Yes, doll?” Sonny whispered back.

You pressed your fingertips together as you stumbled over your already sheepish words. “Would you … I mean, if it’s not too much to ask – ”

“Tummy kisses?”

“… Yes, please.”

“Will do.”

Epilogue:

For the way that the evening had started off, you were quite pleased with how it was winding down: With your boyfriend, baby-faced once more, rubbing and kissing the pain away from your upset stomach, the bristles of his untamed shrew of a mustache no longer there to keep you from requesting such. At this point, you were practically purring like a kitten. What a great way to end the day … Speaking of which:

“Before I forget: how was work, babe?” you yawned.

“Hm? Oh …” Sonny thought. “Well … Rollins – that tough blonde? – she went and suggested I do all the UC work whenever they need a john. She said that – ” He stopped. “I mean, she said that I do a good job at it.” As much as you were enjoying the tummy rubs and kisses that he was so artfully applying, that sudden pause had you hooked.

“Mmmm. I doubt that, Sonny. You never know when to stop talking, so what was with that pause?”

“Nothing,” he insisted.

“Sonny,” you said, pushing yourself up just enough to peer down at him. “Are you really going to lie to your sickly girlfriend?” Honestly, with how long he remained quiet for, there was a possibility that he intended to. But the defeated exhale eventually told you otherwise.

“Okay, okay,” he gave in. “The reality was … Rollins was tellin’ me I should always be the john for UC work because my mustache really sold the image of ‘sleaze bag.’”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. You didn’t want to make fun of him, judging from the tone he’d delivered that sentence in, but also you just plain didn’t want to further provoke the stomachache that was ebbing away at his touch.

“Oh?” you coughed gently. “I thought that that was why you’d grown that thing in the first place.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged one shoulder. “But after a while, I just thought it made me look cool; like one of the boys.”

“Uh-uh,” you said. “So basically, what I’m getting at is that you didn’t just shave your mustache for me, but initially because some big kid at the playground bullied you.” The tummy rubs stopped. You glanced down once more to see Sonny pursing his lips as his eyes looked elsewhere.

“I … wouldn’t put it that way, but – ”

“Save it,” you sighed before flopping back against the pillows. “You now owe me a tummy kiss and rub for every darn, dirty kiss you ever gave me while you had that food trap hanging over your mouth.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Sooo. I wasn't gonna do it, but this is my "feel better" chapter after 6. WAD. Still in the Toral arc

Lance had had two screaming nightmares that had broken Keith's heart. Having woken sometime during the night, it took him a few ticks to realise his husband was screaming and sobbing, while his mother tried to hush him and reassure him it was just a nightmare. Both had been Shiro related, the first Lance begging Krolia to stop Shiro from hurting him, and the second was violent enough for Lance to throw up across the bed, and then try running when Krolia tried to calm him. That had ended with his mother nursing Lance in his lap as screamed against her over what had happened all those phoebes ago when Lance had crashed Blue on the ice planet. The nightmares were physically painful to watch, and so was the way Lance calmed down enough to beg Krolia not tell him, before dissolving again. He'd been watching Lance because he was worried, but now he'd something he wasn't supposed to and he felt like a quiznak for it. Convincing Lance to go shower, his mother gathered up the ruined blankets before picking up Lance's communicator

"Keith, I can practically hear you panicking right now"

"How am I supposed to not?"

"They were just nightmares. He feels feverish, so he's going to take a shower"

"Feverish, or heat feverish?"

"I don't know, all I can smell is his vomit. He wants me to leave him alone for a while, so once he gets back in bed, I'll head back to your room"

At least the boys were sleeping through all of this, that was something

"Will he be alright on his own?"

"He'll be fine. I need to change these sheets, see you soon"

True to her word, barely 10 doboshes later Krolia was sliding into bed next to the boys. Gathering Kelance against her, she nuzzled into him with a sigh

"Keith, get some sleep"

"How am I supposed to?"

"Lance said he wants to talk to you later, so you can stop worrying"

"He wants to talk?"

Keith's heart soared. Lance wanted him!

"It doesn't take much to make you happy"

"You're as bad as Pidge"

"Thanks. She's pretty badarse. He said he'd come up for lunch. So maybe he's not going to go into heat?"

"I hope not..."

Famous last words.

The thought of talking to Lance at lunch time sustained him all morning, and helped ease the pain of the "bad" news they got. Lotor was "worried". Despite being told everything and everyone was alight, the half-Galra had decided to come see for himself, and would be arriving late that afternoon. Even though she'd only stood up for him the night before, Allura had fought as hard and politely as she could to dissuade him from visiting, buuut he was already on his way, so there was nothing they could do change his mind. It was like the universe had aligned to intentionally destroy every ounce of patience he had. Toral. The fight with Lance. Krolia showing up and now Lotor. All he needed was Shiro to be an arse and he'd hit the jackpot. Still. He kept himself busy with the boys until lunch time. And then... Lance didn't show up to the lounge room with the rest of them.

Instead, Lance showed up about 10 doboshes late, with a very clear excuse as to why he was. Dressed in just an oversized shirt from his pregnancy, and a pair of boxer briefs, the omega his arms wrapped around his stomach, Lance was whimpering in pain, as slick rolled down his inner thighs, filling the whole room with the sweet scent of his mate. Instantly everyone was affected, their friends scents filling with desire unconsciously

"K-Keith..."

Snarling, Keith deposited Kelance in his mother lap, before climbing onto the table and walking over everyone's meals in an attempt to get Lance sooner

"Ugh!"

Slumping forward, Keith half dived to catch him and hefting him up to his chest

"Shit, Lance!"

"S-sorry. C-couldn't find my communicator... ugh..."

Fucking Krolia. Oh well. She now had to deal with everyone else

"It's ok. I've got you"

"Keith, need it now"

"I'll knot you soon... just hold on"

"N-no... my ring... I can't..."

"Your ring?"

"I don't know where it is"

Grabbing Lance's hand, he saw both ring fingers bare

"I don't have them"

"K-Keith...!"

Looking around the hallway, he needed a room. If he could get Lance to cum, hopefully his body would give him some relief

"Let me message mum. I've have her hunt for them"

"I can't... I woke up and it'd started"

Screw it.

Striding down the hall, sent Krolia a very blunt message of "Find Lance's ring". She'd know what he meant, and she'd find them, even if they didn't want to be found. By passing the medical room, the kitchen and the bridge, Keith carried Lance to the room they usually used when staying in the medical room. It wasn't ideal, but it was private. Laying Lance down, he groaned as Lance slid his hands down, hooking his thumbs in the waist of his underwear as he pulled it down

"Baby, we can't have sex. I'm going to try and help you through this wave"

"It hurts"

Maybe they'd get lucky and this would only be a one day thing? Either way, he couldn't knot Lance without his ring on... not when he wasn't in his right mind. Climbing into bed, Keith spread Lance's legs wide

"K-Keith. Need you"

"Baby, I've got an idea"

With Lance sitting on his face, his omega was alternating between licking, sucking and bobbing his head sloppily, while riding Keith's tongue. He knew it had to hurt his omega not to be mounted, but Lance was whimpering and so close to cumming... and with his mouth around Keith's erection, it was helping to keep own need to breed at bay. If they could just last a little longer, his mother would finally find Lance's missing rings.

But pups... he was so conflicted.

The memories of Lance's swollen stomach. The way it bounced when Lance rode him, or he bent his mate over whatever he could... the way his breasts jumped and swayed with their movements. Full and heavy, with his pups. That's all his alpha could see. He didn't care anymore, or rather, he lost his rationality chasing that dream. Drawing his tongue back, Lance groaned

"Alpha... need to be full"

"Ride me"

Eager to please, Lance crawled forward, not even pausing as he lined himself, before he dropped down solidly. Beginning to ride him, Lance threw his head back, while Keith rose, wrapping his right arm around his husband's stomach as he tried to hold him, thrusting into him as hard as he could, while his teeth tugged on Lance's ear

"Alpha!"

Watching Lance cum across the bed, Keith moaned, his left hand sliding up to gently grip Lance's throat as he drove up half a dozen more times before cumming with a growl. Screaming as bit his ear, Lance came again, flopping back against him, though still trying to drain every drop as he clenched and rippled around Keith's caught knot. Sucking in air, Keith laid them down, spooning around Lance and releasing his hold on his throat. He didn't even know why he'd done it

"Lance?"

Wriggling against him, Lance started purring as he place both their hands on his stomach. Great. Lance still wasn't thinking straight, and he couldn't exactly stop cumming.

Whether from pain or exhaustion, Lance fell asleep in his arms, and it seemed like only moment had passed when Krolia slipped into the room. Growling over the state of his vulnerable mate, his mother paid him no mind, walking over and sliding the Olkarion ring onto Lance's left ring finger where he usually wore his wedding ring

"I was hoping you wouldn't have knotted him yet"

Through gritted teeth, Keith kept back his alphas rage

"Couldn't control myself"

"The castle halls are clear, so you can head down to your room"

"I'm still knotted"

"I didn't need to know that... ok. I'm out of here"

When Krolia left, Keith waited until his knot was completely deflated, before lifting Lance from the bed. Nuzzling his neck, Lance didn't wake, but he did tighten his hold on Keith which was adorable. Carrying Lance down to their room, rather than the nursery, his husband was stirring in his hold as he climbed onto the bed

"Keith?"

"I'm here. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy, and it's coming on again. My ring!"

Lance tried to fight against him. Capturing his left hand, Keith held it up

"Mum found it. It's on"

"Thank you"

"Just let me take care of you"

"Mmm, always"

*

Whether because of the operation, or whatever else was going on with Lance's omega. His mate barely talked, even during the calm between his heats. He preferred to just keep his face buried against Keith's neck, even sleeping along him like that, nightmares when he didn't. The surgery had really messed with Lance's head, and hearing both Shiro's and Lotor's names falling from Lance's lips drove his second dynamic crazy. Still, the pair of them went at it like rabbits, on every single surface across the bedroom and bathroom. It was actually kind of gross if you stopped to examine not just the dried cum, but the dried milk dribbled across way too much of their room. He might... have... an ever so slight kink over how tightly Lance clenched around him, and how hard Lance came when he worked his nipples until he began to lactate. As it was, Lance's body was covered in bite marks, and possessive hickeys, but that still wasn't enough for him. Or his alpha. He wanted more of his mate and was keenly aware that he was hovering dangerously close to the edge between love and insanity.

On the last day of Lance's heat they were in the bathroom, Lance' arms around him as he fucked him against the bathroom counter, when Lance finally started to cry. Knotting him so as to avoid Lance's stomach cramps, Keith cupped his mates face and forced him to look at him as he wiped at the tracks of tears with his thumbs

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"I'm just... emotional from my heat"

"There's more than that. You've been quite. Even when we're laying in bed together, you've still been quiet"

"I... I didn't want my heat"

"I know. I know you didn't"

"No! You don't understand"

"Then tell me"

"I've been having nightmares since I came out of the pod. I know you know. They feel so real, Keith... I'm scared I'm going crazy, because it's my omega causing them, but because of them, it can't calm down. I'm starting to get scared of both Shiro and Lotor again, and we've worked so hard to move past that. I don't want to think about that"