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Drinking Buddies

Hey all! I've re-joined a fandom that is near and dear to my heart and I wanted to write something for all of these lovely people. Welcome to Good Omens!!

I'll be taking a break from Voltron for the time being, I need a change in scenery. Sorry to all those who are here specifically for that!

Without further ado; please join me and some drunk demons.

*

It was the one time a year where Heaven grouped together as a congregation to have their annual Great Plan meeting, where everyone was briefed on the vague idea of what could be happening in the coming year. Nobody was quite sure what to do now that the Apocalypse…. Hadn’t happened. Thus the vague meetings.

It was also the one time a year that Gabriel and Aziraphale dropped their respective demon partners at a bar and left them to their own devices for a few hours.

Despite popular belief, Crowley and Beelzebub got along quite well when there was alcohol involved. On this one day, they were reluctant friends instead of boss and subordinate. It was nice to have a change. Besides, it was also one of the only days that the Prince herself actually banished her flies and ran a comb through her messy hair, all for the sake of a few hours.

“Your Angel left you, too?” Crowley asks after they’d both gotten their drinks and sat in respective awkward silence for a few minutes.

Beelzebub scowls at her drink, a little more intensely than usual. “Yezzz. He’zzz running the damn thing.”

“You should’ve convinced him to cancel.” The snake scoffs, sipping his wine and glancing at the door. Twenty minutes in. This was going to last an eternity.

“I tried! He told me to buzzz off. Bloody angels and their bloody meetings.”

“Amen to that,” Crowley mumbles into his drink, ignoring the dirty look that earned him. Maybe he was picking up a few too many of Aziraphale’s linguistic habits. “So how is Hell doing, after you-know-what?”

“It’s more Hellish than usual, no thanks to you.” She scoffs. “Incredibly hot. Chaotic.”

“You should come and visit Earth more often, you might like it.”

Beelzebub rolls her eyes, knocking back the last of her drink and flagging over the bartender. “You sound like Gabriel.”

He makes a face, shaking his head. “Eugh, I make it a habit not to sound anything like him. Please don’t insult me like that.”

The Prince gives him a smug smile. “You dezzerve to be knocked down a few pegzz.”

Crowley ignores that. “Seriously, Beelzebub, your terrible Highness — coming up here may do you some good. You can… air out, as it were.”

“I quite like my office.” She says dryly, glancing up as the bartender pours her another drink. “It’zz familiar.”

“You’re festering.” He grins.

“I will not hezzitate to throw my drink on you, Crawley.”

“My name is Crowley,” the demon hisses, his yellow eyes flashing.

Beelzebub grins, tilting her head. “That’zz what I said.”

He considers her a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he sighs heavily, shaking his head and turning back to his drink. “You’re still insufferable, I see.”

“The best of us never change.” She waves a hand. “How izz that Angel of yourzz?”

Crowley pauses, a dopey smile spreading over his lips at the thought of his Angel. Ah, Aziraphale… “He’s… He’s wonderful.”

“Dizzgusting.” She says flippantly.

The smile vanishes, replaced with an irritated scowl. That seemed to be a constant when he was in the Lord of the Flies’s presence. “And what about yours?”

“What, are you expecting me to get all mushy?”

“No, of course not.” He scoffs. “The Prince herself showing emotions? Preposterous. You don’t have a mushy bone in your body, Bee.”

“If I even have bones.” She says absently.

“If you even have bones,” he agrees. “But no, really, how is the Archangel Fucking Gabriel?”

The Prince cackles, throwing back her head. “He’s an azzhole! Juzzt like normal.”

“I never expected anything less.” Crowley rolls his eyes. How Aziraphale had put up with him for so long was a mystery to him — and it was an even bigger mystery how Beelzebub didn’t smite Gabriel where he stood every time he opened his mouth. Perhaps she was just attracted to rude dumbasses.

“He’s quite good in the bedroom, too.” She says, eyeing a couple in the corner who were making out like they would die if they didn’t spend their time swapping spit in a bar.

Crowley short circuits, the breath leaving his corporeal form. Then he smacks his hand on the counter with a triumphant, “I knew it!”

She gives him a flat look, but there was a hint of color creeping up on her sallow cheeks. “What? Did you place betzz?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I believe I won. My dear Angel owes me.”

“Azz if you two aren't fucking.” Beelzebub grumbles into her glass, glowering at him.

“In my defence,” Crowley holds up a finger. “It most definitely is not as frequent as you and Gabriel.”

“So that’zz your problem!” She grins, jabbing him with a bony finger. “You need to get laid.”

“He’s quite soft, he doesn’t do well with frequent, er… activity.” He quips, shaking his head.

“Your job is temptation, right?”

“Well, sure.”

“Then tempt him, you idiot!”

“But…” Crowley entertains this thought a moment, then makes a face. “But he’s so soft…”

“A little too zzoft, if you ask me.” Beelzebub rolls her eyes.

“He’s an Angel!” He scowls. “They’re soft by disposition!”

“No, I think yourzz is juzzt a zzpecial case.” She rolls her eyes, her finger tracing over the rim of her glass. “I must’ve mizzed that model.”

“Gabriel was just designed to be an ass.” Crowley huffs.

The Prince’s eyes go a bit hazy, and quite possibly… dreamy? “He does have a nice azz.”

“Oooh… was that an emotion?” The demon gasps in mock surprise. “Does the great Lord Beelzebub have feelings?”

She scowls into her drink. “Zzilence, imbecile.”

“I’m impressed,” he coos, leaning forward and looking over his glasses at her, eyes dancing with mischief. “Are you going soft, Bee?”

“I’ll zzmite you.” She says flatly, eyeing him.

“I’m already damned.” He snorts, leaning back and picking up his drink again.

“You’re a damned fool, that’zz what you are.”

“Perhaps,” he muses, looking up at the TV in the corner, following the sport with hazy eyes.

“I don’t see how Aziraphale puts up with you.”

He glares at her. “He — He loves me, thank you very much. He’s a very good individual.”

“How quaint.” Beelzebub drawls, rolling her eyes.

Crowley eyes her shrewdly, pursing his lips. Then he huffs. “Tell me about your Gabriel.”

The Prince, who had been taking a sip of her drink, chokes and splutters with a fantastic lack of grace. She wipes her mouth on her sleeve, giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. “What aboutmy — my Gabriel.”

The demon grins lazily, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, anything.”

“Are you asking about my zz— my sex life?” She buzzes, concentrating on her words, metaphorical hackles raised.

“Heavens, no!” Crowley cackles. “I couldn’t care less what you get up to in the bedroom. What I mean is,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Does he make you feel warm and fuzzy, your highness?”

“What?!” She squawks, flushing darkly, her gaze darting around. “No! Of course not!”

“I’m only kidding, relax.” He laughs. There was no need to suffer the wrath of one of Hell’s finest. “But really, what’s it like? Do you get along?”

“We get along well enough.” The Prince offers reluctantly. “He’s quite affectionate.”

“Is he?” That was hard to believe.

“Oh, yezz.” She nods, chewing on her lower lip. “Alwayzz wanting to touch me. He likes teazzing, too. The brat.”

That was shocking. Beelzebub was a prickly little thing. Many a demon had lost fingers for even brushing against her accidentally. “Is that so?” He muses, then gives her a wicked grin. “I’ll bet you love it.”

“You can’t prove that.” She says hotly into her drink.

He snorts. “No, suppose I can’t. Does he come into Hell to see you or do you go Upstairs?”

“What, you think I’d go up to that blasted place?” She scowls. “He comes to me. As he should.”

“How odd,” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Gabriel doesn’t seem to be the type to come to Hell willingly.”

“He’zz quite willing when I’m through with him.” Beelzebub chuckles. “Angels are rather good bottomzz, aren’t they? Or does your Aziraphale step up?”

“What?” The demon laughs. “No, he doesn’t have an ounce of dominance in him! Although he is quite loud.”

“Yours is loud? Unfair.” She whines.

“It took some coaxing,” Crowley says smugly, unable to help feeling a tad superior. “But it was worth the effort.”

“I’ll take that into conzzideration.” She muses. “Although Gabriel isn’t as zzoft as your Angel.”

“Yes, Aziraphale is quite a soft boy.” He says fondly.

“Gabriel is a little piece of shit boy.” Beelzebub groans. “Speaking of — they should’ve been done by now. What’zz taking zzo long?”

“I don’t know.” He wrinkles his nose. “Maybe they’ll be here soon.”

“They better be.” The Prince mutters, squinting at the clock.

*

Aziraphale and Gabriel walked into the bar they had left their Demons in to find them drunk and getting along… alarmingly well.

“An’ then I said… I said…” Crowley was slurring. He looks up just in time to lose his train of thought and brightens, looking more like an excited puppy than a fearsome demon. “Aziraphale!”

“Heeeeey — it’zz the piece of shit boy!” Beelzebub crows, in a loud and loose fashion that was definitely nothing like her usual disposition.

“Oh, dear,” says Aziraphale, “they’re quite drunk.”

“Wonderful,” Gabriel says, his expression pinched.

“What did you get into, love?” Aziraphale asks fondly, walking over and steadying Crowley when he reaches for his Angel.

“Nothin’.” He gives him a dopey grin, his eyes shining from behind his glasses, which were knocked askew.

“Gabriel!” The Prince snaps. “Get your bitch azz over here!”

“There’s no need to be rude, Beelzebub.” The Archangel sighs, walking over to his own mess of a demon.

Crowley was looking up at Aziraphale like he’d hung the bloody moon, a dopey, drunken smile on his lips. The Angel chuckles softly, cupping his face and brushing his thumbs over his cheeks lovingly. “I think you’re quite drunk, my love.”

“Psshhh,” Crowley wobbles in his seat, waving a hand and accidentally swatting Aziraphale. “Naw… Jus’ a lil — hic — a lil…” He trails off, getting distracted by the smattering of freckles across the Angel’s nose. “Hmm…”

Meanwhile, Gabriel was in a similar position, trying to persuade Beelzebub it was time to go home as well.

“You alwayzzzzz… alwayzzz ruin my fun,” she pouts up at her Angel, her dark eyes bleary and her cheeks flushed from drink.

“I believe you have plenty of fun on your own, Bee.” He sighs, prying her off the barstool and slinging her over his shoulder. “Come on. Bedtime.”

“See you next year, Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls after them. “And, er… Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He sighs over the Prince’s drunken giggling. “You as well.”

The Angel turns his attention back to Crowley, who’s eyelids were slipping shut as he sagged against the counter. Aziraphale pays the tab, adding a hefty tip for the troubles the demons likely caused.

“Come on, my love,” he says as he helps his demon off the barstool. “Until next year.”

“Next year…” Crowley agrees, stumbling along as his Angel takes him home to tuck him into bed and nurse his impending hangover away.

Last chance to cast your vote! Ends in 2.5hrs ❤️

I just watched a kid break down in the bookstore because his books for the semester totaled $600 and that’s the american university system in a nutshell

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

ATTENTION WRITERS

Google BetaBooks. Do it now. It’s the best damn thing EVER.

You just upload your manuscript, write out some questions for your beta readers to answer in each chapter, and invite readers to check out your book!

It’s SO easy!

You can even track your readers! It tells you when they last read, and what chapter they read!

Your beta readers can even highlight and react to the text!!!

There’s also this thing where you can search the website for available readers best suited for YOUR book!

Seriously guys, BetaBooks is the most useful website in the whole world when it comes to beta reading, and… IT’S FREE.

The Tumblr writing community is dying.

It’s something I’ve noticed over the past two years of using this site. It was gradual, imperceptible at first, something that most would brush off as a silly concern, or fault Tumblr algorithm for. While it’s true that Tumblr’s engine leaves a lot to be desired, I’ve noticed that even popular blogs have started to dwindle in terms of interaction or motivation. There could be a lot of reasons for this, but the biggest two I’ve noticed, experienced myself, and asked fellow writers about is this: (1) content being stolen, and (2) lack of feedback or interaction. I’ve never seen any logical person defend content being stolen, so I want to address point 2 instead.

Lack of feedback and interaction. I’m not saying this on my behalf so much as I’m saying this for friends and smaller blogs who have lost motivation to write. I was looking at my yandere writing blogs list the other day and noticed that a good majority of them no longer write. I usually update the list every few months, and by that point, more and more writers have stopped writing entirely. This isn’t a problem confined solely to the yandere fandom; in fact, there’s less writing blogs in general these days, especially ones that are active. I used to run a very popular BNHA blog with some friends, but that dissolved after our content was stolen and our followers stopped interacting as much. Out of our 8,500 followers, we hardly got 0.015% notes (~128 notes) on an average post. Tumblr is to blame for the lack of eyes seeing our posts, for sure, but that also means that at least 128 people saw one post and didn’t leave a comment or ask. We were considered a big blog; imagine what it’s like on a small blog.

My friend recently made a post that summed this up perfectly: 

“I’ve seen people say “Be grateful that people even lurk on your page.” and, while I get the message they’re trying to say, it’s more dismissive and hurtful in my opinion. Like you’re saying, “Oh your writing is mediocre, you should be grateful people even LOOK at it.”

Me personally? I’ve heard the argument that AO3 is a better place to post fanfics, and while that might be true, I’ve had friends experience firsthand the lack of interaction there too. I’ve heard the argument that interacting with some writers is intimidating (me included). I’ve heard that argument that followers might be too shy to interact. I’ve heard the argument that writers should write for themselves and not for views / likes / reblogs / etc, and while that’s ideal, it’s not sustainable for everyone. What works for one writer won’t work for another, but you know what will? Interaction.

That comment or ask that took you 2 seconds to write? We remember it. That reblog with the compliments in the tags? We remember it. Every single ‘named’ anon we get (heart anon, sunflower anon, etc)? We remember them. And the best part is? It’s actually easier to do these things on Tumblr since you have the option to send anonymous asks or make a sideblog specifically for reblogs! Trust me, whether the lack of interaction is the cause of a lack of motivation or what have you, every writer appreciates feedback (don’t be shy to offer some critique or compliments) or even a simple keyboard smash with some emojis. Even sitting down for 5 min a day per week to comment on your favorite writers’ new pieces makes a huge difference. Personally, since Tumblr’s activity feed is beyond terrible and I have over 1,500 posts, I don’t always see new reblogs or comments on my content; asks though? Always see those, can never go wrong with those. If you don’t want to reblog or leave a comment, then you can never go wrong with an anonymous ask. 

As my wise friend says: writing is an art, and in order to improve that art, we need other people’s eyes to see what we don’t.

For the sake of every writer (past, present, and future) on this platform, please share this post.

welcome to my page!

Hi there! I'm Reny.

I've been writing fanfiction for about 12 years now, and my current favorite rarepair to write about is Vi and Sevika from Arcane (although my wife has been known to draw a JayVik drabble or two from me). A lot of my works are 18+ so please proceed with caution!

My lovely wife is my muse, however unfortunately for them (and you, dear reader) I tend to channel my inspiration into gut wrenching angst that borders on body horror. Whoops.

On this blog, we are trans inclusive (as a trans myself), inherently queer, mental-health positive, and pro ship whoever you like. I love interacting with everyone (a comment always begets a comment), and all I ask is that we keep it kind, friendly, and civil.

Without further ado; my Arcane fanfiction masterlist!

Vi x Sevika

Multichapter Fics:

dying to live - 54.6k words, finished, rated E.

desc: Vi loses her father and her future in the span of a few minutes. She's left to pick up the pieces and fit them back together - but nothing will ever be the same. There's a lost relationship with her estranged sister to navigate, a bar to run, and a mysterious regular who seems intent on helping Vi despite her insistence on doing things alone.

cover me in gasoline - 16.5k words, ongoing, rated E.

desc: Rockstar Vi AU. "If her music was a monster, Vi was its teeth. Vi was its claws, sinking into the meat of the world and ripping so she could feed the starving jaws of Zaun. She found solace in the violence of screeching chords and banging rhythms, felt her heartbeat in the bassline beneath the music. She shook with the rage, with the determination, with the dogged desperation of a town being erased by for sale signs and developers with faceless corporations ripping apart their wildlife and planting cement time bombs at their apex."

Series:

without you is how i disappear - 38.2k words, 4 parts, complete.

part one: these terrors gripping my throat - 5.6k words, rated E.

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

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

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

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

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

part two: as the blood runs down the wall - 10.3k words, rated E.

desc: Vi and Sevika fall into each other.

“You - You’re letting me move in?” Vi can’t help the shock and disbelief in her tone.

Brown eyes roll and glance into the contents of a half empty coffee mug. “Yes. For now. You pull any stupid shit and I’ll have you on your ass.”

“But why?” It comes out of her mouth before she can have a second to think.

They sit in silence for a moment, Vi clutching her bowl of oatmeal like a lifeline, Sevika considering the depths of her coffee cup.

“I owe your old man a solid.” Sevika says finally.

The disappointment that hits Vi startles her. Ah. She understood - debts had to be paid, and a dead man couldn’t exactly call in favors. But the hunted thing in her, the part of her that never seemed to stop bleeding or weeping or howling, cowers from the words. It was just another reminder that Vi was on her own, at the mercy of others until they cast her aside or died or betrayed her. She picks at her oatmeal and wonders which one Sevika would inevitably choose.

part three: as these days watch over time - 9.4k words, rated E.

desc: Vi breaks. Sevika bends. They find a way forward, together.

“It’s therapy and house arrest, or Stillwater. You pick.”

Vi’s eyes narrow. She pulls one foot onto her seat, wraps her arms around her knee and inspects the dried blood beneath her fingernails. Therapy. Like she was some sad Piltie who didn’t get enough sun. “I don’t need some shrink to tell me what to do.” She mutters.

“Well, the Council says you do, so. Pick one.”

Vi’s knee bounces. She bites at a hangnail, the taste of copper sitting heavy on her tongue. Either way, it was a trap. She’d stay here, haunted by newer ghosts and picking apart wounds, or she’d be sent back to be haunted by old ghosts and inevitably get new wounds. She had no doubt everything she said in a shrink’s office would be fed back to Sevika. To Caitlyn. To whoever asked for it.

Then again, they wrote reports on the prisoners in Stillwater, too. She couldn’t imagine how many eyes had been on hers over the last decade.

“Fine,”

part four: so long and goodnight - 12.8k words. Rated E.

desc: Epilogue.

Healing is a long, arduous journey.

Vi had been on it for a few months now. She’d grown out her hair a little, let it fade back to the vibrant pink of her youth. She picked up weight lifting instead of fighting, keeping herself in good enough shape to fight if need be, but not in the constant adrenaline rush that came with actually beating someone to a pulp in front of a crowd. She’d pierced her other nostril. It was a little crooked, but she liked it that way.

Oneshots:

bleed me to death - 9.9k words, rated E.

desc: Vampire Sevika, religious Vi, and a good amount of yearning. Set in the 1800s!

Vi had heard stories about the house on the hill.

She’d been warned of the depravity that lived within. She’d heard whispers about the guests who went, the weary travelers who stopped and never left, the parties that went for hours and the people who went missing afterwards. But most of all, she’d heard about the woman who owned it.

There were rumors about what she was. A witch, maybe. A woman with the proclivity to sleep with the devil in exchange for worldly possessions. A succubus. A monster. A devil in her own right.

my vow to you - 9k words, rated E.

desc: omegaverse, alpha!sevika and omega!vi, a wedding, and a baby.

Sevika was a little old fashioned, so she insists Vi and her wait until after they were married to share a heat or a rut together.

It was fine. This just gave her more time to make sure she could properly take care of her alpha, or properly make her own heat enjoyable for her soon to be mate.

let me find our future under the stars - 6.1k words, rated T.

desc: omegaverse, alpha!sevika and omega!vi, teen romance, girl next door sevika, age appropriate teen angst.

Vi had always been a vibrantly energetic kid. Her parents had put her into sports early as a kid, just to burn off the energy she came home with every day. She was scrappy, too, and could hold her own in a fight. She inherited her alpha father’s temper, and her omega father’s wit, and both of those combined made a deadly combination. Everyone assumed from the day she was born that when she presented, she’d be an alpha.

That was why, when Vi finally presented (late, at sixteen), she was horrified to discover she was not an alpha. She was, in fact, an omega.

doomsday - 6k words, rated M.

desc: zombie apocolypse au, selective mutism vi, one armed sevika.

Putting a bullet through your father’s head long range was one thing. Putting one through your sister’s, while she begged you not to, while the light died from her eyes, was entirely different. Vi stared her sister in the eye, listened to the snapping of bones in a leg hanging onto her body by the threads of torn muscle, as it tried to reconnect itself and her skin flushed hot with a virus that felt more like a wildfire - and she pulled the trigger.

vagus - 1.4k words, rated M.

desc: there were some days Violet wanted to pry open her chest and break her ribs off one by one. Mental health study.

She’d stack her ribs in a pile, wiping the blood on her fingers off on the bone. After, she’d reach into her bared chest and take out her heart. Untangle the veins and arteries that kept it in place, watch it spout blood uselessly. She’d stick her fingers in the valves she swore were clogged, dig around to pick the muscle clean so maybe it would hurt less when it beat.

Tumblr Prompts:

Vi edges Sevika or vice versa please? - 1.3k words, rated E.

amnesia Vi x potentially guilty Sevika - 623 words, rated G.

Unaware touch starved Sevika x (un)surprisingly observant Vi - 1.1k words, rated T.

Vi/Sevika Sickfic - 1k words, rated G.

How about something like Sevika finding out that Vi has chronic pain (in my head it's canon) and taking care of her? - 1.7k words, rated G.

Jayvik:

(I'll be so honest, you JayVik shippers terrify me. Speaking as someone with a wife who is one!)

not really here, just an intrusion - 7.4k words, rated M, ongoing.

desc: A character study in two acts - season one, and then season two.

“Who authorized your research?” He asks, and Jayce’s annoyance slides over his face before he can hide it.

“It was an independent study.”

Those words alone send a thrill through Viktor. He can’t say he isn’t distracted as he collects Jayce from what had essentially been deemed a crime scene. The possibilities that had opened up to him - if an experiment like this could go unnoticed, what else could be done?

This masterpost is ongoing. As always, drop an ask or a prompt in my inbox <3 happy reading!!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends)/Vi (League of Legends) Characters: Vi (League of Legends), Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Silco (Arcane: League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends), Jayce (League of Legends), Viktor (League of Legends) Additional Tags: Muteness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Zombies, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Virus Summary:

Putting a bullet through your father’s head long range was one thing. Putting one through your sister’s, while she begged you not to, while the light died from her eyes, was entirely different. Vi stared her sister in the eye, listened to the snapping of bones in a leg hanging onto her body by the threads of torn muscle, as it tried to reconnect itself and her skin flushed hot with a virus that felt more like a wildfire - and she pulled the trigger.

***

zombie au, add a little selective mutism Vi and one arm, no prosthesis Sevika

Shiro makes Allura a new crown!

So many Shallura requests! :0 it’s like you guys know I need the practice.

***

It was really odd seeing Allura, the Princess herself, without a crown. She had been kind enough to, yet again, save his life and take the Altean crystal from her crown and embed it in the new arm the Garrison had tried to give him.

Each time he saw her without it, he felt a pang of guilt. She had already lost so much. He hadn’t meant to take more from her, even if she had done it out of the kindness of her heart. The simple gold band that rested on her brow looked so… Empty. Shiro had the odd need to fill that space.

Besides, they were on his home planet. There were stones he could find to replace the one she had given him, even if they didn’t have magical properties. That was going to be difficult, considering the complete destruction of most of the world - but he would manage.

After consulting Pidge and Lance - Lance for advice about style and gemstone, Pidge for her expertise to track things down - Shiro set off with what was left of the savings account he had left behind to meet with an underground gem trader.

It reminded him of a drug deal, the way they met up in an abandoned place. At least everyone knew who he was. If someone did put up a fight, he was able to capacitate them. Also that was just a dick move, to attack the guy who was paying a couple thousand dollars for a gemstone in the collapsing world.

The gem he bought was a moonstone, fit to the exact measurements of her crown. Sneaking it away had been a feat in itself, but Coran had helped after he had figured out what Shiro had wanted. Of course, not after a lecture about honesty and some reminiscing about a time where he and King Alfor had done something similar…

The man he had met for the gemstone was kind enough to set the stone into the crown. Shiro definitely thought it was well worth the money he spent to have it fixed up - and the guy was actually really nice.

***

“Shiro?” Allura looks up as he walks into the room, a frown pinching her brow. “There you are. Have you seen my tiara? I set it down a little while ago and I haven’t found it yet…”

“Oh,” the Paladin says sheepishly, his hands behind his back. “I, uh. Actually, I have something for you.”

“You do?” The Princess straightens, tucking a loose strand of hair that had slipped from her careful bun behind her ear.

Shiro shifts on his feet, mildly embarrassed and definitely nervous. He brings his hands out from behind his back, holding up the tiara guiltily. “So I stole your tiara because you gave me your stone and I wanted to make it up to you, and I know the stone isn’t magic but - it’s a moonstone! Not… from the moon, but I thought you’d appreciate it because it’s blue and…”

“Shiro.” She stops him mid-sentence, grinning brilliantly up at him. “That’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in a very long time.” Allura reaches for the crown, placing it back where it belonged.

“How does it look?” She asks, and Shiro can feel his heart flutter in his chest.

“You look beautiful, Princess.” He says, and the blush he gets in response was well worth the trouble he had gone through to get her this simple pleasure.

***

Requests are still open!

Sick Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

Me:

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