Keith scowls down at the stick in his hands. The damn little stick that read negative. The third damn little stick he had taken that day. He stares at it a moment longer, then drops the test into the bin and gets up from his perch on the side of the bathtub to wash his hands.
It wasn’t common for Keith to be as infertile as he was. Omegas were supposed to practically oozing fertility and vitality! His alpha would argue that he wasn’t infertile, his uterus was just annoying, but Keith would definitely beg to differ.
The omega brushes his palms against his pants and decides to throw himself into baking something while he waited for Lance to get home. They’d been trying for the past three months. He’d gone through painful procedures, medicines that made him weepy or irritable, different positions, inducing heat. None of it had worked.
So his go-to was baking. That made him more of an omega, right? Maybe if he acted more like his secondary gender, he would get pregnant. His instincts were all screwed up anyways. He wasn’t like the other omegas. Lance always liked to tease that he was an alpha hiding in an omega’s body.
Maybe being an alpha would be easier, he thinks to himself as he aggressively rolls out the cookie dough. It would certainly save Lance a lot of trouble. Then they could get a surrogate and he wouldn’t have all of those weepy, jealous emotions that came with his instincts.
By the time Keith’s alpha does come home, the kitchen smells amazing and they have about six dozen different types of cookies. Keith is washing dishes, covered in flour and muttering to himself, his brow pinched.
“I’m home,” Lance calls, undoing his tie and slipping off his shoes. “Wow. You made a lot of stuff today.”
At his mate’s silence, Lance suspects that the tests had been negative again. Uh oh. Moody Keith and peanut butter cookies were on the menu tonight. He sets all his things down before going into the kitchen.
“Baby.” He hums, wrapping his arms around the omega’s waist. He buries his face in his neck, scenting him. He could almost taste the cloying anxiety and self hatred. Lance frowns, rubbing his cheek there to try and soothe his mate’s scent with his own. “What’s up?”
“The sky.” Keith replies tersely, still tense in his grip. He reached forward, grabbing the soap and pouring it over a dirty bowl.
“No,” the alpha snorts, kissing his cheek. He reaches over, turning off the water and ignoring Keith’s annoyed grunt. “I mean what’s up with you.”
“Nothing. I’m just baking.” He mumbles, reaching over to turn the water back on. Lance catches his hands, walking backward with him and turning his mate around to face him. “And I was trying to wash dishes.” He grumps, looking up at his mate.
“You never ‘just bake’ six dozen cookies.” He tilts Keith’s chin up, brushing his thumb over his cheek. Keith avoids his gaze.
“Baby…” The alpha pleads, leaning down and brushing his nose over his mate’s cheek, gently scenting him. “Please talk to me.”
Keith’s eyes flicker shut. He takes a breath, his throat suddenly tightening with emotion. He takes a moment, melting into his mate’s attention and closing his eyes. What had he done to deserve such a patient, loving alpha?
“The test was negative again.” He whispers, opening his eyes after a moment and looking up at him. He expected disappointment or guilt or… something. But instead, he was met with a smile and a kiss to the forehead.
“I know.” Lance murmurs against his skin, wrapping his arms just a bit tighter around his waist.
“You- what? You do?”
“Yeah,” the alpha laughs, peppering kisses along his face. “Yeah. You don’t bake unless you need to make yourself feel better. I’m not complaining!” He adds quickly at Keith’s guilty expression. “The guys at work love your cookies. They’ll be happy.”
The omega lays against him, thinking this through. He presses his cheek to Lance’s shoulder, brushing his fingers over his collarbone and staring off into space. “Are you happy?” He asks after a moment, his voice rough.
Lance blinks, pulling back slightly to look down at him. “What? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because,” he takes a sharp breath, rubbing his stinging eyes. “Because you want a family. You want… kids and a home and… I’m not giving that to you. I just have- cookies! And negative pregnancy tests and fucked up hormones…”
“I have a family.” Lance hums, brushing a thumb under Keith’s eye. “My family is right here.”
“But I’m just… I’m just me.” Keith’s voice cracks.
“Just you is all I want. That’s all I could ask for.”
The omega sucks in a breath, looking away as a tear leaks down his cheek. How Lance - perfect, beautiful Lance - had chosen him, of all people, was beyond Keith. He was just a roughed up, foster kid, short tempered omega from the middle of nowhere Korea. It had taken two years for Lance to get him to say yes to going out with him, another year to break down the walls and figure Keith out, and six months after that to convince him that yes, the alpha wanted him as his mate.
They’d only mated a year ago. But Keith had known that Lance came from a big family and wanted at least three kids. So when they mated, he immediately went off his suppressants and had been trying to give Lance what he wanted ever since.
Twelve months of trying. You’d think by now that they would have at least had one pregnancy scare. But nothing. He could give Lance nothing. Nothing but cookies and emotions.
“Oh, baby, hey,” Lance pulls him back against him, burying his face in the omega’s hair. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.” Keith protests with a sob.
“Okay, not crying.” Lance agrees, brushing his hand up and down his mate’s back. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
“I just want to give you a family.” He weeps, clinging to Lance’s shirt.
“I know. I know. We’ll just keep trying.” He soothes, kissing the scent glands on his neck, trying to calm him down.
“Okay.” Keith sniffs.
They sit there for a moment before Lance picks him up, hefting him over his shoulder.
“Lance!” He squeals, patting his back. “Lance, what’re you doing?”
“Trying again!” He laughs. “Gonna get you pregnant.”
“It’s less effective when I’m not in heat,” Keith flushes, kicking his feet.
“Okay, then I’m making you feel good.” He pats his ass happily.
The house echoes with Keith’s giggling as they head down the hall. Finally, the upset omega smell was fading, leaving the house peaceful and full of life once again. Cookies sat on the counter. The sun went down outside. Things were going to be okay.
Hello again! Back with another one-shot! Sorry for the dry spell- Writers block is a bitch.
So I just got an 8-5 office job that I start tomorrow aaaaaand that means my life will be hectic af for a while. I'll still be around, but I won't be writing as much as I have been. Sorry guys! I hope you stick with me :)
There was a storm due. Shiro had told him, but Keith could feel it in the tide and the undercurrents he liked to play in. The merfolk usually stayed away from the surface. There were too many horror stories about small sirens being swept away and left to die on the jagged rocks that tore ships apart in storms like these.
You’re insane. Pidge, Keith’s best friend, informed the young siren.
He just flashes her a toothy, excited grin. I’ve never seen the surface during a storm. I’ve heard it’s beautiful.
You’re gonna get yourself killed. She flicks her lithe, bioluminescent green tail to follow Keith as he darted through the coral reef so he wouldn’t be seen. Pidge apparently didn’t get the message; she was still floating conspicuously by the reef, arms folded against her small frame.
You’re gonna get me caught! Keith huffs, reaching over and dragging her into the reef. She lets out a surprised squawk, a bit of floppy seaweed smacking her in the face.
I don’t even see why you’re doing this, Pidge grunts, fixing her hair. Is it because of that human? The one that Shiro told you not to go near?
I have no idea what you’re talking about. Keith darts through another crevice, stopping to listen. The patrols were supposed to be on rounds on the opposite side of the reef, but Shiro had become unpredictable lately. He’d suspected his little brother wasn’t paying attention to the rules that he’d set, because Keith was far too… civil about them.
You’re going to get hurt. Pidge blows bubbles, glancing up at the distant, roiling surface. Even the undercurrents are strong enough to sweep you away. You’re tiny.
You’re one to talk, Keith grunts, peering around a rock. No sign of the patrol. From here, it was only clear water to the surface. There was nowhere to hide if he got caught. He hadn’t even come up with an excuse if he did happen to get caught, which was sort of stupid on his part.
He hesitates, his tail fins drooping a bit as he looked around. Cover for me? He asks, without turning to look at Pidge.
The tiny siren rolls her eyes, smoothing down her electric green scales. Don’t I always?
You’re the best. Keith looks back at her. I’ll bring you back something cool.
Yeah, yeah. Go on, before your brother finds you swimming in open water and locks you in a cavern for the rest of your life.
He makes a soft, appreciative noise, before he races toward the surface, leaving bubbles and a dubious mermaid in his wake.
In retrospect, going out on a boat right before a storm was a terrible idea. As his boat rocked and swayed and creaked wildly - it reminded him of the bull-riding matches he saw on television - Lance was starting to deeply regret his judgement.
The storm had only been a few dark, menacing clouds across a blue sky when the fisherman had gone out in his boat. The news had warned of a major change in weather, which was what had prompted him to take his little rickety boat out onto the water.
He had been sure he was going to be back in enough time. But when Lance had gotten to the rocks, he had lingered a little too long. Maybe he should have heeded the weatherman’s warnings to stay inside.
Okay, but, in his defense - those nets cost him hours of labor, and thick rope wasn’t exactly cheap! And… okay, maybe he was hoping to see a certain pretty scaled siren with purple eyes. That was the real reason he was out in this storm, if Lance were being honest.
Besides, he hadn’t meant to drift this far, but the angry sea had stolen away his only oar and nets weren’t the best tool to use as a way to get back to shore. Lance could see the shore from here, but it honestly could have been a world away. There was no way he could reach the shore now.
His suspicions were proved correct when the rain started coming down. His boat was filling with water faster than he could get it out, both from the thrashing waves and torrential downpour. Lance was throwing water as fast as he could with his cupped hands. He looks up to see a monster of a wave. And then his world goes dark.
When he wakes up again, it’s to somebody shaking him and calling his name. His eyes open, but before he can register anything, his body heaves and he starts coughing up water. He turns to the side, coughing and gasping for air.
There’s a hand on his back, rubbing small, slow circles. He doesn’t remember what had happened until he remembers his nets - what had happened to his nets? Lance sits up, jerking away from the hand and looking around frantically. There was nothing - nothing! No nets, no boat, no - anything.
He twists to see who was with him, to ask questions, and stops dead when he sees the siren looking up at him, wide-eyed.
Keith had put him on a rock, above the thrashing waves and with enough handles that he wouldn’t be tossed into the tempest. He was clinging for dear life, having retreated from off the rock when Lance had tried to throw him off.
Lance stares at him for a long moment. For a split second, relief washes over him to see that Keith was here and safe. Or, well, as safe as anyone could be during a massive storm. But that fades as quickly as it comes and Lance finds himself looking out at the waves. What had happened? Where was he? He... didn’t recognize this side of the coast.
“Where… what?” He rasps, dragging a hand over his face, the salt of the water stinging his eyes and making his throat feel like sandpaper.
I saved you. Keith ducks his head, pressing himself against the rock as another wave crashed over him. His arms were shaking, his body sagged with exhaustion against the rock. I saved you. You were dying and I saved you.
“I’m not- my boat! Where is my boat?” Lance scrambles higher on the rock, trying to look for it.
There was no boat- there was only you and the waves and the water and… no boat.
The Cuban sits back hard, his eyes wide as he stares at the raging sea. “That was my dad’s boat.” He says faintly, dragging a hand through his hair. There were too many emotions swirling in his chest.
His dad had built that boat with his bare hands when Lance was just a kid - it was all he had left of him! His brother’s and sister’s and father’s initials had been carved into it before it’d been sealed. It was his favorite possession, the only piece of his dad he had left.
Grief washes over him, thick and heavy, piercing through the clouded, grey veil of shock. But it only lasts a moment. Lance turns his gaze to Keith, the shock giving way to anger merely seconds later. It was horrible, he knew, but the circumstances were ridiculous and he needed somebody to be upset at. Keith just so happened to be the closest one at the moment.
“You have to find my boat!” Even as he says it, the part of him that had fallen in love with the ideation of sirens, the color of Keith’s scales, the musical sound of his voice in his head - it screams at him to stop. This wasn’t Keith’s fault. He was supposed to be happy that they were alive.
But how was the little siren supposed to know this? Keith winces, his fingers tightening on the crevices of his life line. There was no boat. There won’t be anymore boat, the sea will have torn it apart.
“You have to bring me my boat!” Lance shouts. “What- what good are you if you can’t give me something to get back to shore in?”
Keith’s eyes widen, fear making them a dark indigo color. It almost blended with the waves. I can take you to shore… he tries to offer, but Lance shakes his head, cutting him off.
“No, don’t even- don’t even bother.” Lance rakes a hand through his hair, rage flaring hot in his veins. His relief from before is drowned out by a sudden, terrible anger. His boat was gone. He was far from home. His fishing nets were probably somewhere along the bottom of the ocean - another thing he had inherited from his father.
Even as the little voice in his head was begging him to be reasonable, pleading with him to see that Keith was just as scared as he was, he was fighting a losing battle. Lance’s logic had been poisoned by anger, his shock bleeding into something more manageable. Something easier to cope with.
As far as his brain was concerned, this had nothing to do with his recklessness. His mind was convinced that if he hadn’t met Keith, he wouldn’t be in this mess! At the moment, it seemed logical enough. It was easier than taking the blame.
“This is your fault.” He snaps after a moment, all his panic and shock rushing into this one feeling - and the only thing he could do was lash out, because if he didn’t, he was going to cry.
M-My..?
“If you had minded your own business and stayed out of my nets, I would have been inside for this storm!” He hisses. “And I wouldn’t be lost in who-knows-where Cuba with a stupid fish who can’t even be bothered to rescue boats!”
I didn’t… I didn’t mean to-
“Shut up. Just- go away. Get out of here.”
But I’ll-
“I said get out of here!” Lance picks up a clump of seaweed and possibly some gravel, hurling it at the siren. It bounces off his wrist, surprising the siren enough for him to let go of his perch on the rock. It isn’t long before the waves crash over him, dragging him back into the deep with their icy claws.
His heart twists painfully, words leaving his mouth before he even has the chance to take them back and apologize. “And don’t come back looking for me, because I won’t rescue you from anymore nets!”
That’s the last thing Keith can hear before he’s swimming away as fast as he can. He had only tried to help. He had saved the human - he had torn a gash in the thin membrane of his tail, which was causing him to swim funny, and now he had to find his way home, too.
The little siren swims as far as he can before fear and exhaustion takes over. He finds a hollowed out little divot in the bottom of a coral reef, curling up there. Keith trembles, wrapping his arms around himself and staring into the water. Shiro had been right, to some extent.
He sits there until he’s dozing off, until he hears something familiar in the water far off. He blinks his eyes open, peering out incoherently.
...eith!
The siren shifts, edging out to peer over the little section of the reef he was hiding in.
Keith!
Shiro. Shiro had found him. He makes a noise that’s a cross between relieved and scared, pushing himself out from behind the reef. His adoptive brother was scanning the reef, Pidge trailing behind him as they searched for him.
Shiro, Keith whimpers, propelling himself with tired fins toward his brother and best friend. Shiro!
Pidge looks up, freezing when she catches sight of him. She races over, jostling into his older brother and gesturing frantically when his body language changed from searching to annoyed.
When he catches sight of Keith, however, he stops dead. There’s one silent, heavy moment. Keith struggles to keep swimming, straining his tail fins, his body trembling with effort. Shiro edges forward, then takes off like a shot, hurtling toward his little brother.
His older brother scoops the little siren up, gripping onto him and burying his face into his hair. I’ve got you, he coos, I’ve got you.
You were right. He sobs, burying his face in Takashi’s shoulder. I should have stayed, I shouldn’t have met the human.
You’re okay. Shiro coos, scooping him up and carrying him back to Pidge.
Pidge darts around them, frantic. I know I promised not to tell, but you didn’t come back and I got worried and- I’m so sorry, Keith!
Keith doesn’t answer, his eyes closing. He wanted to go home. Shiro holds him tighter. I’ve got you, his older brother says again. You’re okay.
But all Keith could see, all he could hear, was the anger in Lance’s eyes and voice.
Part 3 of The Children of the Sea
Part 1 | Part 2
Can someone just………………. explain French to me?
Look!!! This is my arm now!!
Guess what I did.
You ever try to write romance and you just feel like this image
Writers on a random Tuesday: Sits down, locks in, giggles, writes 10k, does not sleep
Also writers on a random Tuesday: writes one sentence and then stares into the abyss for five fours
Some of those stars don't exist,
She whispers, the galaxy in her eyes.
Yet they still shine so bright.
Do you think, she asks, that we'll shine like that when we don't exist?
You already do, I think.
And how, she murmurs, will we stay up in the sky for so long?
You already have, I breathe.
Will they remember us for who we are? She murmurs.
I will, I vow.
Or will they remember us for what we did? She sighs.
I do, I gasp.
No matter, she says, turning away from the sky. They're just stars, after all.
And you shine the brightest, I add.
The girl with the galaxy eyes smiles at me.
I am frightened by the way I love her, just as I am frightened by the vast emptiness of space.
But space is a curious thing. There is more to explore each day. And nobody ever discovered stars by being too afraid to look up.
Some of those stars don't exist, she whispers.
And neither will the end of my love for you, I answer.
This idea isn't mine, I couldn't copy the link. User is anonymous. Keith gaining a weight from all of Hunks cooking and baking. He's really embarrassed at first but Hunk is in love with his bodies changes. To show him he loves his body he buys him new Lingerie, gives him a good fucking, makes his favorite cake, buys him flowers and cuddles him.
I’m finally back at it! For now, anyways. Have some soft heith :) I picked a bit of what I wanted to write from the prompt, I hope you don’t mind.
*
Keith stared into the mirror, his gaze dull as his hands run down his sides. There were new stretch marks around his belly. His shirts had to be continually tugged down to cover the slight pudge that had developed. His leggings rolled down underneath his belly and hardly stayed up due to the extra weight he was carrying in his waist and ass. But now, standing in front of the mirror in his and Hunk’s room, clad only in his boxers, he felt so much worse than he did when he was in his clothes.
He presses his waist in with his hands, stifling a sniff and blinking past the burning sting in his eyes. Wow. What a childish thing to cry over - gaining weight. Keith stares at himself, self hatred rearing its ugly head. Not only at the image in front of him, but the reaction he was giving.
This whole thing was partly his boyfriend’s fault. After coming back from space, they had all been a little malnourished and battle weary. So Hunk had taken it upon himself to feed Keith better than he had been since he was a kid and his dad was still around. This included a lot of baking, traditional American cuisine and also the typical Korean and Hawaiian dishes that the two were natively accustomed to.
It was only supposed to help him fill out a little, but Keith had gotten lazy with training and working out now that it wasn’t exclusively required on a daily basis; thus the weight gain. He’d been ignoring it valiantly. Today, though… He had wanted to put on the lingerie that Hunk had bought him a while ago, surprise his boyfriend when he came home from bringing food to the others.
It hadn’t fit. He’d hardly been able to squeeze into it when the delicate lace had ripped and he was stuck staring down at the ruined outfit. Now he was here.
Keith is crying when Hunk comes home, not at all noticed by the former red paladin. “Hey babe, I’m - Keith? Keith, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Keith shakes his head, scrubbing at his eyes and reaching for his clothes quickly, like a cat spooked back into hiding. “I’m fine. Nothing.”
Hunk’s eyes scan the room, taking in everything. The ripped lingerie, the discarded clothes, the ashamed flush on Keith’s chest and ears. He sighs softly, walking over and tugging Keith away from his clothes. “Hey,” he murmurs. “C’mere.”
Keith doesn’t have time to dispute his boyfriend as he’s pulled into a warm hug. Traitorous tears threaten to spill again, but this time he doesn’t even have energy to push them back down. He sniffs thickly, melting against Hunk when he passes a massive hand over his spine.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Hunk asks, the question rumbling deep in his chest.
“I’m disgusting.” Keith answers after a moment, his voice dull and weepy. “I ripped the lingerie you bought me because I wanted to surprise you but I’m - I’m too fat.” His voice cracks.
The Hawaiian pulls back, frowning and holding his boyfriend at arms length. “That’s okay. We can buy you new lingerie. That set is kind of old, anyways.”
“But that isn’t the point!” Keith cries. “I wanted to feel beautiful, to dress up for you and make you feel good. But now I’ve ruined it.”
“Keith,” Hunk sighs, slightly put out. “It isn’t ruined, baby.”
Keith rakes his hands down his face with a shaky breath. “Yeah, but it was supposed to be about you. Now it’s about me.”
“I think maybe you need it.” Hunk soothes, pulling him back and kissing his forehead. His hands wander down his sides, firm and careful. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” Keith says grudgingly. “But I’m making it up to you.”
“Later.” Hunk agrees, reaching down and squeezing at Keith’s ass, earning a soft squeak. He walks them backwards until his boyfriend is sitting on the bed, looking up at him. His gaze softens at the remnants of tears on those pale cheeks, the self doubt and guilt and shame lingering in those amethyst eyes.
“Lay down, baby.” He requests. Keith obliges, settling down on the bed and avoiding his gaze.
Hunk kneels over him, pressing soft kisses over his cheekbones, raining them over his nose, placing them over his lips. The Korean lets out a soft sigh, his eyes flickering shut, a crease between his eyebrows the only indication of being stuck in his head. Hunk planned to change that.
He spends the next few minutes lavishing kisses over as much of Keith as he has the boy writhing underneath him, slowly worked up, before he moves on to making him feel good. Hunk seals his lip over a nipple, flicking his gaze up and sucking slowly. The Korean gasps, tossing his head back, clinging to the sheets.
“You’re so beautiful,” Hunk murmurs, kissing his way to the other one, teasing it to a flushed and tender point with his tongue. Keith mewls his pleasure, quiet and shaking.
The Hawaiian shifts down, pressing his face into his belly for a moment, his hands stroking the insides of Keith’s thighs before tugging his boxers off, leaving Keith bare and open.
“So eager for me.” He coos, pulling away to look down at him.
Keith is a sight to behold. His ebony hair spills over the pale yellow sheets, his amethyst eyes hooded and darkened with arousal. His pale skin is flushed with it, his cock already hard against his belly. Hunk takes a breath, wishing he could do nothing more than devote his life to worshiping the deity spread out underneath him, the best thing he had been blessed with. He sends a silent thank you to the holy Pele, as far from her as he was.
“Hunk,” Keith begs, reaching for him, needy and wanting.
“I’ve got you, koʻu lani.” He settles between his legs, taking Keith into his hand and stroking him. Keith’s mouth falls open in a breathless cry, his head tilting back and his eyes closing underneath the ministrations of his lover. Hunk drinks it all in, filing it away underneath the place he kept when he wanted to remember just how beautiful his boyfriend truly is.
It doesn’t take much to bring the Korean to the brink. Under Hunk’s gentle hands and loving gaze, he doesn’t stand a chance. With the gentle murmuring of come on, sweetheart, that’s it from his boyfriend, Keith comes undone at the seams with a breathless little gasp.
The afterglow is heaven, especially when he’s cleaned up and wrapped in a loving embrace.
“Do you feel better?” Hunk whispers into his hair, his body curled around Keith protectively.
“Yeah,” he answers, his throat thick with emotion. “Yeah. Thank you.”
He can feel the press of Hunk’s smile in his hair. “I love you, Keith Kogane.”
“I love you, too.”
*
Requests are CLOSED for now.
Hey if y’all have anything specific Good Omens you want me to write send in an ask
WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT PRO WRITING AID BEFORE?! THIS THING IS FUCKING GLORIOUS. HOLY SHIT. LOOK AT THIS.
IT GIVES YOU A WHOLE DAMN REPORT ON YOUR WRITING AND WALKS YOU THROUGH HOW TO MAKE IT BETTER AND WHY IT IS SUGGESTING CHANGES. THIS IS JUST A TINY CHUNK OF THE HUGE REPORT IT GAVE ME ON THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ONE OF MY PROJECTS. I AM IN LOVE.
AND IT WORKS WITH SCRIVENER. AND IT IS AFFORDABLE.
WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!
BLACK LIVES MATTER. FREE PALESTINE. reny | 24 | sometimes a writer | they/she | brown eyed sevika supremacy
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