#you can see that i haven't made a proper gif since months

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 10

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted—a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

Part 10 Expedient Action

Steve watches as the kid’s lower lip trembles, his stubborn little cleft chin moving along with it, and he hums sadly. “Do you remember the last time you were happy, Bucky?”

The boy shrugs, won’t meet his eyes. “Dunno,” he eventually says.

Steve nods, having expected as much. Slowly, he curls his fingers over the top of the towel at Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s stomach sucks in with tension when he realizes that Steve intends to pull the towel off him, but he makes no move to try and stop it. Steve lets it fall to the floor, then looks at Bucky’s lap, eyes briefly considering the state of the omega’s rigid little prick, before sliding to the side to look at his leg. Sadness fills him again at seeing them, even though he’d known they were there.

Right along the top of Bucky’s left thigh are a series of pale lines. Scars, lined up in a tidy little row that begins at his hipbone and ends several inches before the knee. Most are white, but some are pink, still in various stages of healing from the recent past. Months old, but not years. Steve grabs Bucky’s hands when he tries to cover himself. “It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble.”

Bucky whines and tugs his hands away. “Leave me alone,” he groans, sounding miserable. Steve has no doubt that he is, though that doesn’t mean that he’s not aroused, as well. Steve could smell his slick as soon as he’d gotten out of the shower, and it’s only intensified since then. Understandable, after what they’d witnessed from the doorway of Parker’s room. (Steve really needs to give Natasha a good bonus this semester. That woman knows how to get a task done.)

With the towel discarded, Bucky’s scent is rich and unimpeded, that pleasant mix of loamy earth and spiced verbena combining to arouse Steve’s senses. Virtually all omegas smell nice at bare minimum. Even ones pregnant by other alphas still smell good, if not particularly arousing. But again, he’s reminded that the notes of Bucky’s scent stand out to him more than what he’s accustomed to, pulling at all the baser instincts that live in the back of his brain.

He tries his best not to let his enjoyment of it show, but there’s only so much a man can do. He’s wearing his own special brand of compression underwear at the moment. Made for alphas, thank god, or else there’d be a very different situation at the front of his slacks right now. The bloody things are tight as fuck, but they do a good job at concealing all but the most aggressive of boners. And for an alpha who spends his days surrounded by hundreds of teenaged omegas reaching the peak of their sexual maturity, they are a godsend.

Steve rests his hand on Bucky’s leg, right over the scars. Oh Sweetheart, he thinks mournfully. Who did this to you? He lets his thumb trace one silvery-thin line, probably one of the oldest, and hushes Bucky’s whimper when it comes. “When did you start doing this, Honey?” he asks, being careful to keep his voice as gentle and as coaxing as he can. “Shh. It’s okay.”  Poor thing’s just embarrassed as all get-out, and Steve isn’t trying to scold him. “When, Bucky?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs and won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “Couple’a years ago, I guess. I don’t do it anymore. Not … not much.”

“That makes sense,” Steve observes. He’s baiting Bucky, and it works.

The kid peeks up at him. “It does?”

“Sure. Your heats mature at about fifteen, sixteen. That’s when it gets harder. Without a safe and consistent partner with you each cycle, you’re not going to be very fulfilled.” He watches as Bucky frowns down at his lap and thinks about that. “Has that been your experience?” he prods gently. “Feeling unfulfilled?”

“I … no.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Want to try saying that like you mean it?”

Bucky grimaces. “I mean, I didn’t use to think so. It just was what it was, y’know? Most kids don’t have a heat partner, so I figured I was just bein’ oversensitive. I at least had Brock. … Once in a while, anyways.”

“Hm.” 

“I thought that was good,” he says, looking to Steve for confirmation in a way that is pitifully naïve. “Nobody else pairs. Unless they’re dating. And even then, people have lives. They can’t just stop everything for a week every single month. That’d be ridiculous.”

“Right,” Steve says, hating this. He wants to growl and bundle Bucky up and make him see how neglected he’s been, how he deserves so much more. “You felt like you had to make due on your own.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I could get a hookup, at least for the second day of my heat. Those are usually the worst.” Bucky looks away, evasive. “And … I tried some things.”

“Suppressants?”

“Yeah. But before I figured out how to get a doctor to prescribe ‘em, I used to steal Ransom’s credit card to buy some of those supplements you see in the infomercials. You know: with the testimonials and everything? People saying how good they work?”

“How well they work,” Steve corrects under his breath. “Those are expensive.”

“Hundred and fifty bucks plus shipping, every month,” Bucky confirms. “Well, at least until Ransom noticed it on his credit card statement.” He colors a little and admits, “I also tried those things they sell over the counter at the pharmacy. Those, erm, those things that you can take. That you stick up your—”

“I’m familiar,” Steve drawls. “So, you put multiple things in your body without knowing what was in them.”

“Well I figured they couldn’t sell ‘em on tv if it wasn’t safe,” Bucky defends. “And besides, everybody does it.”

“Not exactly winning me over, here, kid.”

“Look, you don’t understand!” he snaps. “You’re alpha. You don’t get it. Heats are stupid, they're not fun. They just get in everybody’s way, and these products help. They help quality of life. They help make it less of a problem.”

Steve holds back the actual growl that wants to come at hearing such a tragic pile of tripe. “Did you ever stop to wonder why it’s always your natural biology that gets labeled as the ‘problem’, hm? Always something to be fixed, rather than something you’re entitled to? Something you deserve to have accommodated?”

Bucky blinks a few times in a row, mouth working. “Well … no. That’s just how it is.”

“Oh is it?”

“It is if you want to make it anywhere in life. Get into a good school, get a good job, work your way up at some company.” He blithely rattles off the examples, speaking like this is all pre-determined truth, and Steve is the only idiot who hasn’t been clued in. “People won’t hire you if you need all that time off of work and stuff. You’ve got to make yourself as good as a beta employee, at least. Otherwise nobody’ll hire you.”

Steve nods solemnly. “Yeah, well that’s where I take issue. I think omega rights—true omega rights—demand that society value omegas for what they naturally are. And that means allowing them the space and time they need for their cycles, not treating it as something inconvenient, not expecting people to use a bunch of drugs to try and force themselves into some, some …” He makes a frustrated gesture. “Some employable box.”

“Well yeah, I guess. But—”

“Omegas deserve to have their contributions as mothers and homemakers valued, too,” Steve asserts, then narrows his eyes at Bucky when the kid rolls his eyes. “You scoff, but the omegas who consistently rank highest in self-reported life satisfaction are those who choose to take on domestic roles. The only thing career omegas consistently rank highest on is level of  antidepressant usage. It’s a trend we’ve seen increasing ever since the seventies.”

“Right,” Bucky snaps. “Back in the good old days when we didn’t have any rights.”

“That’s not true,” Steve says sternly. “Omegas had all the same rights as other designations, it was culture that was different. There was a place carved out in society for them. Omegas’ natural affinities were valued. Those who did work were able to find jobs that fit their lifestyles and needs. Now, employers expect you to change yourself for the job, just like you said.” He shakes his head sadly. “One could make the argument that that’s equality, but it sure as hell ain’t fair. Betas and alphas have society shaped to fit their needs, and omegas simply have to try and force themselves into difficult spaces just to get by. I don’t think it’s right that the way we do things is geared towards what alphas and betas naturally need, and nothing that’s naturally omega is accommodated for anymore. Do you?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, but his posture slumps with uncertainty the more he considers what's being said.

Steve softens his tone to something more gentle. “That’s why I think the erasure of gender roles is unhealthy, Buck. Not because I’m a sexist who hates omegas and doesn’t want them to be able to do anything, but because I think you guys deserve so much better. So much more.” He watches Bucky’s face, the growing doubt in his features, and figures it’s time to stop with the proselytizing. He's given the kid something to think on. That's good enough for now. It is bedtime, after all. “Just think on it a bit,” he advises kindly. “You’ve had a lot of experiences, but there’s still a lot for you to learn. Try and do it with an open mind, okay? You might come to see one or two things a little differently.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily, but Steve can tell when his point is getting through. Most students start to come around to considering the school's curricular viewpoint by the one week mark. After a week of constant offers to have his needs fulfilled—and constant refusal of those offers—it’s pretty obvious that Bucky is nearing the turning point. Steve decides to end this little talk on a positive note. He gives him one final pat on his legs. “Okay, Hon. Time for bed.” He stands up and observes the way that Bucky seems to physically stall, unable to quickly process Steve’s sudden departure. 

“You’re leaving?” he blurts.

Steve offers him a gentle smile. “Would you like for me to scent anything? Maybe a blanket or a pillow?” Right now there’s only a sheet and a single, thin blanket on the bed. He thumbs backward at the room’s cabinet of nesting supplies. “The nurse said you’re mid-cycle. The urge to nest must be waxing rather than waning at this point, yeah?”

Bucky seems surprised by the offer, but after a moment he nods shyly. “Maybe an extra blanket wouldn’t be so bad.”

Steve turns and goes to grab a blanket out of the cabinet and scent it, taking Bucky’s compliance as a significant win. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and is doubly pleased when Bucky makes no snippy remark at the gendered praise. He doesn’t face Bucky as he scents the top edge of the blanket with his wrist and then his neck. He doesn’t want to push his luck and make the boy so embarrassed that he’ll revert back to his pattern of disrespectful misbehavior. It’s always a balancing act, with new students, but once you get the right combination of domination, kindness, and familiarity? That's when things begin to smooth out.

Bucky takes the blanket with a bashful, “Thank you,” when Steve hands it over, and Steve gives him a quiet rumble of praise for being polite.

“You’re welcome, Honey.” Bucky moves like he’ll get under the blankets, but Steve stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on a sec. You forgetting something?” Bucky blinks vacantly up at him, and Steve can’t help but chuckle. “We don’t sleep naked, do we?” 

Bucky looks back down at himself, like he’d forgotten he was naked in the first place. “Oh.”

Steve fetches him a pair of underwear from the room’s dresser. The students’ nighttime briefs aren’t dissimilar to what they wear under their uniforms during the day, but they consist of one piece rather than two, and the padding’s a bit more … thorough, meant to help deter wandering hands at night. Steve finds himself unable to look away as Bucky puts them on, sliding them up his legs with shaky fingers and whimpering near subvocally when his leaking prick gets covered up by the padding. His hands fist the bedsheets at either side of his hips, and for a second his face gets red and his eyes go unfocused.

Oh Jesus. Steve grinds his teeth at the display, unhappy to feel his own cock pulsing insistently against the seam of his slacks. Bucky’s tortured, straining efforts to not touch himself are near-pornographic to watch, making that warm, sexual urge swirl up harder in Steve’s belly than before. He shifts in place and flexes his hands as he tries to think of something to counter the pulsing in his dick—picturing his grandparents fucking is his usual failsafe, in times like this. He doesn’t want his scent to grow so strong that it affects Bucky right now. Not when they’re ending the night on such a positive note. 

The thought of Nana and Pawpaw doing the nasty does the trick, and Steve retreats to the doorway. He hums in approval as he watches Bucky climb into bed and get settled. He nests only the barest bit, almost tentatively, tucking the scented end of the blanket up alongside his pillow and draping the rest of it over his body. He curls up on his side and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. Steve waits with his hand poised to flip the light switch. “You have everything you need?” he checks, giving Bucky one final chance to be honest about his needs.

But he simply tucks his face into the scented blanket and closes his eyes. “Uh huh.” His still-damp hair is stark against the white pillowcase, and Steve’s heart gives a fond twinge at the sight.

It does dry curly.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He flicks the lights off, knowing that by tomorrow morning, he’ll have a punishable offense to address with the boy. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“… Night, Steve.”

Despite the excellent performance of composure that he’s managed to maintain with Bucky for the past few hours, all that time with the omega really has taken its toll. Steve is relieved to get back and shut himself away in the confines of his office. It feels like a sanctuary right now. It’s a deep mental and physical relaxation that hits him as soon as he sinks into his desk chair and inhales the professionally filtered, pheromone-free air of the room. 

“Ahh," he sighs, rubbing at his temples. "God save the queen. Fuck."

Compared to other alphas, he’s got excellent control of his reactions and is able to mask a great deal (an invaluable skill when one works with hordes of hormonally-peaking teenagers), but the end of the school day always provides a bit of relief—today more than most.

He opens his laptop and leaves it to boot up while he goes over over to pour himself a drink. He pulls out one of the cork-coated lowballs that he keeps in the freezer (because he prefers his drinks on the rocks, but whether he likes it or not Peggy’s had an influence on him these past twenty years, and he knows it’s blasphemy to add ice to a 30 year old Scotch). He eyeballs a finger of the liquor—okay, maybe closer to two fingers—and brings it back to his desk to sniff it and swirl it around. 

It’s a vintage that one of Peggy’s relatives gifted them years ago, worth quite a bit of money apparently, and it’s been Steve’s one petty protest amongst the many bigger ones of his soon-to-be ex-wife. He’s only begun making use of it since their divorce proceedings intensified over the summer, with Peggy’s obstinance against fair division of assets reaching damningly selfish levels. Steve never thought of her as someone who’d go for the nerves in a divorce just for the hell of it, and it’s upsetting to see that nastier side exposed. It feels like all his good memories are slowly being tainted by it, made ugly and ruined, like paint thrown over a fine portrait of the woman he’d once admired. Steve’s not a heavy drinker, but he’s nearly made his way through the entire bottle these past few weeks.

At his desk, he peruses current events on his newsfeed and a few academic articles of interest, being sure to sip steadily despite his leanings as a teetotaler. He wants to feel a bit of a buzz by the time he dares to brave his inbox. The little icon tells him that he’s got dozens of unread emails waiting in there. Not unusual for a weekday, but there’s one from Peggy that he purposefully puts off for last. And surprisingly, there’s one email each from the personal accounts of both Tony Stark and Harlan Thrombey.

He clicks on Stark’s first, expecting the email to contain more demands for the accommodations he wants for the upcoming parents’ weekend. Sure enough, Stark doesn’t disappoint, asking Steve to please arrange for a 2-minute slot for one Ms. Pepper Potts to speak during that coming Sunday’s evening ball. It’s during said ball when the school has its traditional slew of scheduled, “spontaneous” rounds of toasts over betrothal announcements. Steve’s happy to agree to a slot for Ms. Potts, just grateful that it won’t be Stark himself making the speech. Thank god for small favors. 

Stark also has a footnote jotted in, as though it’s a nothing, requesting a black Rolls Royce Phantom to pick them up afterwards to take them to their hotel in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. In the distinct manner that Steve’s learned only multi-millionaires ever really have, Tony blithely throws out his specifications for the car’s interior temperature (73 degrees Fahrenheit, precisely), a fully-stocked bar, and a selection of snacks and juice boxes that sounds suspiciously catered to a certain omega's tastes.

Smirking and shaking his head, Steve spends a moment researching the costs of this additional, last-minute amenity. He tacks an extra two grand onto the price and shoots the email back with an inflated invoice that brings him no guilt. Academia is little better than a break-even industry, after all. And besides, Stark can afford it.

Normally, Steve would save any email of Peggy’s for last, but given his growing obsession with interest in Bucky’s case, he decides to save Thrombey’s email for last.

Peggy’s email is also very typical of what Steve’s come to expect from her: curt, concise, and infuriatingly presumptive.

📨Peggy: Asset Divisions Update

Steven, it reads, My solicitor will be in touch after this next weekend with an updated proposal for division of assets. I did not find your last offer acceptable. Mr. Jorgensen is out of the country on account of an emergency this week, which is the reason for the delay. I do apologize and hope you will understand. In the meantime, I look forward to enjoying a pleasant and uncompromised parents’ weekend with our two schools. I’ll be in touch soon, in regards to those preparations. Cordially, Peggy.

Steve sneers at the ‘cordially’. “More like cold as ice,” he grumbles, grabbing the glass of scotch to toss back the last few sips. Parents’ weekend is going to be hell, having to be in such constant proximity with her. 

Thrombey’s email is long and flowery, in the distinct manner that only novelists ever really have. He rambles on, bemoaning the state of his grandson for several long paragraphs before getting to the point. Finally, he lays out the issue, and it is a doozy:

📨Thrombey: Expedient Action Required

—has come to my attention that the boy has been engaging in a form of online prostitution. Something called only fans.”

Steve’s jaw drops as he feels the blood drain from his face. Oh no. Bucky wouldn’t … would he? Shit. He totally would. Steve’s eyes flick back to the email.

—can imagine my horror to find that for a monthly fee, subscribers have access to his nude photos. I hadn’t the stomach to look myself, but Ransom assures me it’s all him on the webpage. There are even videos, and Ransom says that James’ face is visible in some of the footage. His face! This is outrageous! 

“You’re telling me,” Steve mutters. 

Thankfully, the Academy’s structure seems to have put an end to his production. There’s been no new footage uploaded since the week before his enrollment. My lawyers are working on having the account erased, and I can only pray that nothing comes to light publicly before then.  Now more than ever, an intervention is required for my grandson. His eligibility for a good marriage will be out the window if word of this pornography spreads, his prospects ruined. I want you to put your full efforts into seeing him matched up with a suitable Alpha as soon as possible. I don’t care who it is, what nationality they are, if it’s a triad, if there’s no notable family name—nothing. All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment. Do be thorough in your searching, but do not drag your feet! I’m sure I needn’t explain how damaging this will be to my family, if word gets out.  I am counting on you to take expedient action, H. Thrombey

At the bottom of the email is a link. It’s to an OnlyFans page. Steve’s heart rate picks up and he hesitates for a long moment, knowing that he shouldn’t look. Harlan’s lawyers are handling it. 

But his morbid curiosity wins out, and he clicks on the link. It leads directly to Bucky’s personal page, and Steve experiences a very unpleasant combination of sensations: his dick filling with blood at the same time that his stomach turns from seeing the images that are on the page’s banners. It’s Bucky’s body, that’s for sure, with his face cleverly turned away or artfully clipped from the shots. Below the title page and summary are links to “Exclusive new hot videos!” with 3 second thumbnails of Bucky’s ass moving, his back arching, his hand moving over his—

Steve looks away from the computer screen, furious and aroused and mortified. “Goddammit, Bucky,” he hisses, angry that the kid has done something so inherently damaging—not just to his reputation like Harlan is thinking, but to himself, to his soul. Steve’s stomach churns something awful at knowing that this stuff is available for any creep with a credit card to purchase … and at his own reaction to even the barest glimpses of it. He peeks up again, this time reading the titles of the videos: 

“Hot O-on-O action!”

“Omega dominates Alpha Slut”

“Horny Teen Twink in Heat”

His jaw ticks angrily. What fucking awful, typical titles. He looks down at his cock, which is visibly pressing against the seam of his slacks. “Fuck,” he groans. He can’t jerk off to porn of Bucky. He can’t. It’d be beyond unethical. Even if the kid was his mate, Steve would still feel the moral obligation to—

Oh. Well there’s an idea. 

His brain stalls on the thought of him as Bucky’s mate, his Alpha, in charge of him and giving him what he needs … and taking what he wants. Mortifyingly, a growl builds up in his chest as he glances once more at the thumbnails of Bucky doing lurid things. The kid’s got such tight, smooth skin; such a perfect, pretty shape. Steve’s mind slips into editorial mode, imagining what it would be like if Bucky was his, the omega’s ass moving under his hips, his back arching in his bed, his quivering hands smacked away from his cocklet while Steve rails him from behi—

Jesus fucking Christ. Stop!

His hand is halfway to his pocket when he realizes that he’s reaching for his wallet, contemplating buying a subscription just so that he can see. Disgust floods his chest, extinguishing the growl, and he snaps out of it. He pushes away from the desk and stomps over to grab the bottle of Scotch and bring it back, dumping himself back in his desk chair and heedlessly pouring another fill. 

And so what? he thinks. Who cares if he finishes the whole fucking bottle? He might as fucking well. His wife, the woman who agreed to be his life partner, who placated him with endless promises of “one day” and then went ice cold and bitter and reneged on everything she’d ever claimed to want with him, is putting him through the wringer just for shits and giggles. And now come to find out, his newest pupil, a boy for whom he’s got way too much personal interest, is selling himself on the internet—For $9.99 a month?!!! The videos seem to cost extra on a pay-per-view basis, but even still, what the ever-loving fuck?!

Steve’s whole body stiffens as something else occurs to him: Harlan’s email said that Bucky’s face is visible in the videos. Bucky’s stepfather reported that to Harlan. Which means he's seen the videos. Which means … 

Steve’s jaw ticks as he glances back to the computer screen, to Bucky’s homepage and the free lurid teaser photos that don’t show his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, angry. That Drysdale guy had been a prick during the tour of the campus, and now Steve knows what a fucking pervert he is, too. Because the only way he could know that Bucky’s face is shown is if he bought the subscription and paid extra for the videos.

Steve closes out the browser window, not wanting to see any more of it. The warring disgust and temptation to be one of those creeps who pays money to view omegas degrade themselves is just too much. He yanks his wallet out of his back pocket and chucks it angrily at the couch, missing by a country mile. He takes a gulp of the Scotch, exhaling harshly at the burn as it goes down. “Fuck.”

Pornography for omegas carries a heavy social stigma—far beyond what any beta or alpha porn star would ever face, and deeper in the nature of its contempt and consequence. Omegas who do porn make big bucks, because they’re making an even bigger trade-off. Engaging in any sort of sex work virtually erases an omega's chance of mating. It hadn’t merely been upper crust snobbery in Harlan’s email, but common sense as well. People from all walks of life treat omega sex workers as an untouchable caste, damaged goods, not worthy of real relationships. 

It’s one of the few holdovers from the old days, even though porn isn’t what it once was. It’s easier to make than ever. Amateur is in. Omegas who would’ve once been exploited by large production companies now work from home, in control of their own content creation. More and more of them are choosing get rich quick schemes over mating, turning to platforms like OnlyFans and giving away their most sacred gifts to any scum bucket with a credit card. Ruining their lives. 

Steve loosens his tie and takes another gulp of liquor before setting the glass down heavily. His hands go resolutely back to his laptop with what he knows he has to do. It sickens him that he even has to do it in the first place. He considers himself a man of morals, a man who lives by his word. But in this one thing, he’s let himself become a hypocrite. He navigates to his internet bookmarks and opens the subfolder marked “Meditations.” It’s his porn stash. Favorite videos he’s saved for lonely nights. Nothing too wild, but virtually all of it involves omegas. Watching A/o porn has been his guilty pleasure for … a while.

He used to avoid it on principle, but these past few years have been different, his desires harder to ignore, the urge to bond, mate, and breed pooling in the back of his brain and the pit of his belly, winding him tight with a tension that he doesn’t like. At first, he’d just chalked it up to being a horny bastard, but that wasn’t it. The unrelenting tension came with a hollow, forlorn ache that refused to go away. Even after a good jerk off session imagining himself in one of those videos, it never went away for long. It’d taken Steve a long time to figure out what that ache really was. For the first time in his life, he felt unfulfilled. 

He only hesitates a second before right clicking on the folder and pressing delete, a grim sense of rightness settling over him at the action. He should’ve done it long ago. He shouldn’t have compromised his values in the first place. Of course he’d made all sorts of excuses for it: the porn was amateur, it was self-made, the omegas were getting off and enjoying themselves, he wasn’t paying for it, maybe the Alphas in the videos were actually their mates.

And then of course, the lamest excuse of all: that he deserved to watch it, because his erstwhile wife was ruining everything. 

He closes out the browser window and frowns at his reflection on the screen. “Lame,” he mutters. He opens Harlan’s email back up and begins drafting a response, assuring the man that he has nothing to worry about, that Steve will find Bucky a suitable match in no time.

He uses one of the school’s proprietary databases that tracks eligible bachelors, typing in search parameters for sex and nationality (any), net worth (≥ €2,000,000) and age (25-45). Alphas live longer than other designations, so he isn’t worried about being too picky on the age range. Just so long as it isn’t some young sap who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing. Bucky needs a firm hand and lots of attention. He needs an Alpha who can handle him with gentle dominance, who’ll know when to be indulgent and when to put their foot down.

Steve can’t say why he picks €2m to be the cutoff point for a prospective Alpha’s net worth. Maybe he likes the idea of Bucky being given an easy, comfortable life. And if he sets the search results to list from lowest to highest net worth, well … maybe it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of Bucky being smothered by ludicrous levels of wealth (like Parker’s undoubtedly about to be). 

The list of possibilities starts with a landowner in rural Scotland, and ends with an Israeli shipping magnate based out of Cairo. Steve scrolls through the profiles, dismissing anyone he deems unworthy of being Bucky’s mate. Too ugly, too ugly, too fat, too old, too many divorces, too ugly, too ugly. Nobody seems good enough. Steve finds flaws in every profile he sees. And underneath it all, the thought remains: he could be Bucky’s mate.

He shakes his head like he can rattle the idea loose, thinking: don’t be stupid, Rogers. He’s the headmaster here. Taking a student as a mate would be a violation of his professional duties. Not illegal, hell, not even technically against the rules, but certainly embarrassing, perhaps bordering on … unseemly. Parents entrust him with their omega sons to train them up and secure good matches for them, not to mate them himself. 

… But Harlan’s email had specifically said that nothing else mattered. Not race, nor gender, nor pedigree. ‘All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment’.

All Steve can think about is how that could be him. He could be Bucky’s Alpha. He could take care of him, provide for him, have a family with him. Pieces of an imaginary life layer up in his mind like paper mâché, one on top of the other, slowly congealing into a picture that makes the yearning in his gut that much worse. He imagines Bucky as his omega, living in the Pendergast Street cottage together, a scar on Bucky’s neck; holing up in the house’s nesting closet with him each month, fucking him through his heats, getting him pregnant, watching him give birth and nurse their baby inside a bundle of blankets that have Steve’s scent on them.

He’s always wanted kids. Peggy had, too, or so she said. They’d talked about it infrequently, but they had talked about it. How one day they’d mate an omega and live a blissful family life, have a traditional triad marriage. But that was the problem: they’d only ever talked about it. And on the rare occasion when they had, Steve was always the one to bring the topic up. He hadn’t realized that, hadn’t realized how often Peggy’s only input wound up being an obfuscating ‘one day’. 

The day when she finally nutted up and said that she’d changed her mind, that she didn’t want an omega mate in their marriage, didn’t want babies, was the day Steve finally uttered the word that’d been sitting on the back of his tongue for months: “Divorce.”

He still wants to have that intimacy with an omega: bonding them, sharing their heats, getting them pregnant and watching them grow, seeing his child in their arms. He thinks of Bucky in that role, imagines how the boy would take to it, what their first time would be like, if he’d instinctually know to go ass up in the bed or if he’d need to fight it a little, have his alpha toss him around and hold him down before he could accept a knot. If he’d get quiet right before coming, or shriek and thrash and dissolve into agonized tears.

“Fuck,” Steve groans, letting his hand slide over the top of his thigh and into the crease of his groin. He palms himself there, gripping his dick and giving a few short tugs from over the material of his slacks. He looks down and stares at the hard line his boner makes, imagining Bucky being here and seeing it, putting his hand there, how much smaller it’d be than Steve’s, how much less experienced. God, Steve wants to guide him through that, teach him how to touch a man, watch the nervousness and arousal play out on his face as he learns how to please an alpha for the first time. 

“Fuck, Honey,” he breathes, thinking about the little noises Bucky would make, the little protests and growls, and the slick that would drip down his thighs and betray him. Steve wonders how the kid touches himself, thinks back to that first day in his office, when he’d asked him how he liked to make himself come. Bucky hadn’t gotten around to answering before he’d lost control of his body, wetting up his underwear in submissive release and going a fascinated shade of red once Steve cooed at him over it. 

He’s never had a student release like that before. Not that easily. And he’s just so fucking pretty, even his anger is pretty. Steve grits his teeth at how he can feel his self restraint slipping. He thinks of Harlen’s email: find him a mate, anyone will do. Well if anyone will do, then why the fuck shouldn’t he put himself in the running?

Bucky is low hanging fruit, so fucking ripe for the picking, and Steve just knows he could get him to bend so beautifully with only a little bit of tender care. He could have him happy and content in no time, releasing at the barest show of dominance, just like before. He can still hear that warbling, humiliated whimper that came right after Bucky wet for him, the way his big, confused eyes had looked to Steve for help … 

“Goddammit.” He hastily undoes his belt and fly. He shoves his pants and underwear down to free his dick, wrapping a hand around himself and squeezing tightly at the base. His knot is already dark and aching, halfway to being erect after less than a minute of touching himself. He wrings his fist up under the head, forcing the skin over the tip and jacking off with it, guts coiling tighter at the tiny, wet sounds it makes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He takes his hand off, not wanting to come too fast. He slumps back in the desk chair for a moment, panting, and remembers two things at almost the exact same second: He needs to check the surveillance in Bucky’s room, and he’s got a pocket masturbator in his desk drawer. Well, fuck.

He all but lunges for the drawer, yanking it open and cursing when he sees it. He grabs the toy and holds it to the tip of his cock, moving his hips to push the head through in tiny, teasing little pulses. Oh god, it feels amazing. He pulls it off and reaches for his laptop, opening the school’s surveillance mainframe and navigating to the dormitory views. He clicks on the camera for Bucky’s bedroom and toggles the night vision to on. At first it doesn’t look like much is happening, but then he catches the slight movement of Bucky’s body beneath the blanket … and he moans all over again.

“You little fuck,” he breathes, grabbing the masturbator to slide it all the way over his dick. “Ughn.”

Bucky’s touching himself from underneath the blankets. He’s lying in the same position that Steve left him in, only now his eyes are clenched shut tight and he’s panting open-mouthed into the pillow, his one shoulder angled in such a way as to suggest that he’s got his hand reached behind him. His arm moves in tiny, barely-there pulses. Steve realizes that, unless Bucky’s got the longest fingers known to mankind, he’s using a toy on himself back there. 

“Nnh.” He squeezes the silicon sleeve over his cock, dragging it up and down in time with the motions of Bucky’s shoulder, imagining that it’s Bucky he’s feeling around his cock, imagining that Bucky’s feeling him.  “Naughty boy,” he grunts through a grin. He knew Bucky would be jerking off once left alone, but this is even better. Steve regrets not watching the feed from the moment he left, as he’d love to know just what the toy looks like, and where Bucky was hiding it. Somewhere in his luggage, obviously. New students are always searched when they arrive, but clearly the boy managed to get something past bag check. Steve almost feels admiration for the sneaky little shit. 

He pushes the unmute button and listens to the audio. At first it’s just the quiet rustling of fabric on fabric, the stirring of Bucky’s body against the sheets as he pleasures himself, but then a tiny, breathy moan breaks through, and then another. Steve’s hips flex into his stroking hand. “Oh, Honey.”

Bucky’s face is pinched and he’s biting his lip—probably trying to keep quiet. The notion makes Steve smirk. Omegas are very vocal in their sexual pleasure, prone to keening and squealing and making all sorts of warbling, debased noises when they’re feeling good. It must be the most exquisite torture for Bucky to try and stay silent like this as he fucks himself on whatever toy he’s managed to sneak in. Steve watches it with a tightening belly and aching balls, twisting the rubber sleeve over himself again and again, bumping down hard against his knot on every stroke. “Fffuck.”

In the frame, Bucky’s voice catches on a single, high pitched noise as he comes, his body going rigid under the sheets and his hips pulsing harder than before. He whimpers and turns his face further into the pillow to muffle it, but Steve is already right there too, jerking himself hard and fast with the sleeve until he shouts and starts to shoot. His knot blows inside of the rubber, which isn’t as good as the real thing, but still feels fucking amazing. He keeps his dick fully buried and squeezes the toy hard over his knot, milking himself until his hand cramps and he lets go. The toy pops off his cock and falls to the floor, and Steve goes boneless in his chair as he shivers through the long wave of his orgasm. 

When it’s finally over and he looks back at the computer screen, it’s to see Bucky carefully rearranging himself under the blankets. Whatever it was that he’d used to fuck himself, he seems to be keeping it hidden between the mattress and the room’s wall. Steve plays idly with his knot while he waits for it to go down, deciding that the kid gloves need to come off now. It’s time Bucky learned just what it means to be taken in hand by an Alpha. And with the development of the online porn and Harlan’s request, there’s no longer need or time to play things slow and easy.

Tomorrow, Steve’ll finally do what he should’ve done from the get-go, what he’s been wanting to do ever since Bucky trounced into his office with a bad attitude and false bravado. From here on out, he’s going to take proper care of that boy. Starting tomorrow, he’s going to handle Bucky’s education himself. And if things progress from there? Well, Harlan said anyone will do.

Story Masterlist

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[notesfromthepalace]

The Girls are mad!

And they can stay mad. If something doesn't sit well with me, not only am I going to say something, I am not going to subject myself to it.

Yes, its story time:

So a few months ago, I had went out with a group of people, both men and women, in downtown Bellevue. When I got the invite, I initially said I was going to drive myself - but oh no, they insisted that I ride with them, bad idea. Mind you, we were suppose to go bowling. When we got to the bowling alley, there was no reservation. We're in our mid-twenties, why are you not making reservations for when we go out?! We arrived at the bowling alley around 8pm and they said it was a two hour wait. I put my name and number down for them to call us when they're ready as we went to a restaurant nearby. The restaurant was cute, it was a little packed - but this is where the night became disastrous.

I love fine dining and I was raised well, so etiquette and class are my bread and butter.

"Hi how are you, a table for eight please?"

We sit, and while we're all looking at the menu the waiter informs us that any party greater than six will have only one check; We all said yes and agreed to the stipulations of the restaurant.

Or at least I thought so. Maybe they didn't hear because half of them showed up inebriated.

I'm already annoyed from the non-existent reservation for the bowling alley and my level of regret keeps growing by the minute.

For someone like myself who frequents high-class establishments on the regular, I know that if there is an experienced chef in the kitchen, as long as you can describe something (even if it's not on the menu), they'll make it. I ordered bread for the table and asked for a garlic butter vinaigrette (for the girls that get it) for myself. As I am ordering, one of the guys yells and says "Sarah can order for us because she knows how to talk like them" - WHAT!!!!!! The level of mortification.

Is "mortification" even a thing?

I was MORTIFIED!

I also know when people see something they haven't had before, they tend to want to taste it. So when the bread came out, I did not double dip into my garlic butter vinaigrette. One of the girls asked if she could taste it and I allowed her to. But then she double-dipped, into MY garlic butter vinaigrette.

I ordered another one. I am not the type to make a scene in public. She finished my original one and called the waiter over "Waiter, can I get that butter stuff too?" - loud as all hell. She didn't even get the proper name of it so he brought her a stick of butter and she was upset; Bombastic side eye *with Caribbean accent.

Besides the utter loudness and vulgarity of the night - the icing on this pineapple upside-down cake was when the check came and they saw the price that everyone would have to pay (only like $60 each by the way):

"I only had water" "I didn't order that much food" "My drink wasn't even expensive" "I need to speak to the manager"

M O R T I F I E D

I asked myself why did I allow myself to be out with people that I know don't know how to conduct themselves in public. And what's worse is Washington is a predominantly white state and that night we were the only Black people in the restaurant. Now whatever misconception they may have had about Black people or people of color in general, they solidified and reinforced every negative stereotype.

Since that night, I had never been out with the group ever again.

I almost had a rocky night like that again this weekend but I cancelled because I knew it was going to be a mess.

Pretty much one of the girls mentioned how we never hang out - and I don't. She mentioned this place in Seattle called MBar. Any place in the city that you want to go to needs a reservation made. She said she called and couldn't reserve a spot, interesting.

Ms. Princess Chanel called, and what do you know they answer and say that there is an opening Friday night at 6:30. I proceed with the reservation and they ask to put my card on file, you know, in the event I don't show up they can charge me - which is normal for nicer and more exclusive restaurants. I believe she didn't make the reservation because she did not want to put her card on file. It's giving I wanna be a "pseudo-pretty girl": someone who wants to act like this lifestyle is normal to them but it's not because anyone who knows anything knows that normal.

I let them know that the reservation has been made but then one of the girls was like they are unsure if they can make it - you should have said that before I made the reservation. Then it turned into a "can I ride with you" and "who is coming to pick me up" - excuse my French but who the freak did you think was going to be the designated driver to two drunk bozos who don't even know how to conduct themselves as ladies - absolutely the freak not.

I CANCELLED THE RESERVATION.

They can go out by themselves and that is exactly what I said.

They ended up at a local bar - which is fine if that's what you're into. But don't try to frequent the places that I go to bringing that bottom of the barrel behavior with you; People know me, I stop and say hello.

So the mad girls can stay mad and I will go out by my lonesome, with my African King or my girls back home - you know, the girls that get it.

And that's who this blog is for: the girls who get it, even though I know the girls that don't get it watch and read too. Maybe they might learn a few things.

But as always, with love from your soon to be Mrs. Haitian-African,

Sarah Chanel

xoxo

P.S.

I went to brunch with an adult the next morning at a restaurant where we made a reservation:

[thoughtsbyharu]

Guts and Guts (spilled) Album Thoughts

My thoughts about Olivia Rodrigo's 2nd album, Guts!

Hi everyone! Long time no post! A lot has happened for the past months and I haven't posted a lot :(

Anyway, so Olivia released an album last September! This review is sooo long overdue haha but at least I could also review the new songs released on Guts (spilled) which is kind of like the deluxe edition of Guts.

I am very excited for this album because her previous album, "Sour" was one of my favorites. I listened to this on its release and it did not disappoint! So let's talk about my thoughts about it.

1. all-american bitch

Rating: 9/10

Memorable line/s:

"I don't get angry when I'm pissed. I'm the eternal optimist, I scream inside to deal with it"

"I'm grateful all the time (Grateful every f*cking time)"

Thoughts:

Way to start an album! The song is very catchy and the pop rock elements just hits up my alley. I heard that she used some American pop culture references in this song so I did some researching to know the meaning of them (since I am not American lol).

The overall tone of this song is somewhat sarcastic. I think the song is about how people expect her to be the "perfect American woman" when some of that ideals are quite destructive. Take for example the line:

"All the time, I'm grateful all the time I'm sexy and I'm kind I'm pretty when I cry"

and the line

"I don't get angry when I'm pissed I'm the eternal optimist I scream inside to deal with like "Ah""

It's like even if you are upset or angry, as a woman, you are expected to be calm and mature and handle things gracefully like a proper lady. Basically, bottling up your feelings because you, having negative feelings and expressing them doesn't sit well with people.

These types of expectations are toxic and unhealthy. Keeping your thoughts internally because people will be inconvenienced is such bs. Having emotions isn't a crime because guess what, women are people too. We should be able to laugh when you're happy, cry when you're sad and get mad when you're angry.

Overall (before this section takes too long), I like the song and it's meaning. I especially love the outro. Oh! and have you guys seen her performance of this song on SNL? It was amazing!

2. bad idea right?

Rating: 8.5/10

Memorable line/s:

"Seeing you tonight is a bad idea right?"

"I only see him as a friend (The biggest lie I ever said)"

This is like hearing the thought process of your friend who can't leave their ex or move on 😂

It's a fun song and really catchy. I love the build up before every chorus hits. It's fun to sing along to.

It's funny because this song reminds me of one of my friends and his on/off relationship with a girl. Like, he keeps ranting about her but he just keeps coming back to her. Saying things like, "Well, we're still friends so we're still hanging out" but then regrets it later when stuff happens. This song reminds me soooo much of him. No matter how much advice we give him he always does the opposite.

Anyways, to my friend out there, hope you move on already!

3. vampire

Rating: 9/10

Memorable line/s:

"I used to think I was smart but you made look so naive"

"You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart"

So this song was said to be about a previous boyfriend but others said that this is about Taylor Swift, but I think I'd go with the former. I did some research and she did have a former boyfriend that fits the description so maybe it's about him?

The lyrics is kind of like "All Too Well" all over again. Not saying it's bad but it's really weird to think that a lot of young women can relate to it. I mean, why do these men always go after young women who's like, years their junior? The line "Went for me and not her, 'cause girls your age know better"?? Like dudes, why can't you find someone your age? Young women in their late teens to early 20s are still figuring out life, leave them alone 😂

Anyways, the song is quite good and pretty hard to sing so kudos to Olivia! I watched her live performances to this song and it's just so amazing.

4. lacy

Rating: 7.5/10

Memorable line/s:

"I see you everywhere, sweetest torture one could bear"

"People are people but it's like you're made of angel dust"

"I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you"

This is definitely about envy. It's the kind of envy where you admire someone because you can never be like them. Do you guys get it? (haha)

She puts "lacy" in a pedestal because she's basically perfect; which is something that she (Olivia) thinks she could never be. Basically, "Lacy" brings out her insecurities and this is frustrating her.

I think most of us has their own "lacy". Maybe it's an idol, actress, friend, etc. and I get it because I also have my own. The thing is, you are your own person and that lacy is also their own person. You will never be them because you are you. It's alright to acknowledge the feeling of jealousy but don't let your life revolve around it. Do things that are best for you.

5. ballad of a homeschool girl

Rating: 8/10

Memorable line/s:

"I'm on the outside of the greatest inside joke"

"Each time I step outside, it's social suicide!"

This is not a ballad, this is an anthem!! 😂

I have to say, this ain't just for the homeschool girlies but awkward and socially inept people too (like me). I am laughing all throughout this song when I first listened to it because it is TOO relatable for my own good.

I love how chaotic it sounds, like a mind of a very confused and anxious girl who does not know how social stuff works.

P.S. can't find a fitting gif for this sooo bear with me

6. making the bed

Rating: 8/10

Memorable line/s:

"Well sometimes I feel like I don't wanna be where I am"

"Every good thing has turned into something I dread"

"I got the things I wanted, it's not what I imagined"

This is such a very personal and emotional song. I've been watching BoJack Horseman recently (I'm on Season 4 pls no spoilers) and this song reminds me of him. This song could be about her rise to fame but it could also be interpreted as facing the consequences of your own actions thus the title.

9. logical

Rating: 8/10

Memorable line/s:

"No, love is never logical"

"I know I'm half responsible and that makes me feel horrible"

"i fell for you like water falls from the february sky"

Another ballad~ It's about how she wished she left an unhealthy relationship sooner. She reminisced about how she ignored all the red flags because she loved him. This is probably about that guy on vampire because some lyrics talks about how he took advantage of her because she was young. And yes, when you are young, immature, and inexperienced, love is not logical. She seems to blame herself over it as well which made me want to give her a hug :(

The song makes me sad.

10. get him back!

Rating: 9.5/10

Memorable line/s:

"But I am my father's daughter, so maybe I could fix him"

"Wanna kiss his face, with an uppercut"

"I want sweet revenge, I want him again"

This feels like the continuation for "bad idea right?". Get him back is a song about having complicated feelings for an awful ex. She wants to get back with him but at the same time she wants to get revenge or get back at him for breaking her heart.

Song is very catchy and I hope I could hear this live soon! (Olivia please come to the Philippines) One of my faves in this album.

11. love is embarrassing

Rating: 9.5/10

Memorable line/s:

"My God, love's embarrassing as hell"

This is logical but in a lighter tone or when you are at the stage that you've moved on but you suddenly remember what you did and you get second hand embarrassment for yourself 🤣 It's giving "What the hell was I thinking, tf did I do that for??"

This song is so fun and I found myself singing it from time to time. One of my favesss

12. the grudge

Rating: 11/10

Memorable line/s:

"You took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers"

"My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge"

"I takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong"

"How could anybody do the things you did so easily?"

"It takes strength to forgive but, I'm not quite sure I'm there yet"

Ngl, this song made me cry. Every time I try singing it I always end up tearing up or crying. It's like you are trying to move on and forgive someone but that pain still lingers and it hurts so much and you can't bring yourself to come in terms with. To anyone who is in the situation, give yourself time because as they say time can heal all wounds. If you must cry, then there's no shame in crying.

13. pretty isn't pretty

Rating: 10/10

Memorable line/s:

"There's always something in the mirror that I think looks wrong"

"...I could try every every lipstick in every shade, but I'd always feel the same "

"You fix the things you hated, And you'd still feel so insecure"

Seriously Olivia. Why should you always write songs that are so personal and relatable?? I gotta be honest, but this song made me cry again haha. I dunno, I just can relate to this song soooo much. I love how Olivia wrote this because it captures the struggles of being an anxious and insecure individual. Anyway, on a lighter note, I love the guitar and the bridge of this song. This is one of my faves.

14. teenage dream

Rating: 10/10

Memorable line/s:

"When am I gonna stop being wise beyond my years and just start being wise?"

"They all say that it gets better, it gets better, but what if I don't?"

Another ballad and yes, I am crying because of this song yet again. If I have a song I want my teenage self to hear, it's this song. I am an eldest daughter in an Asian household so this song just pulls my heartstrings so much because it makes me feel heard and my feelings validated. I am expected of many things so this song comforts me.

The slow buildup to a rock tone during the outro is also such a nice tone.

15. obsessed

Rating: 10/10

Memorable line/s:

"You both have moved on, you don't even talk. But I can't help it, I got issues, I can't help it baby"

You don't know how guilty I felt when I heard this song for the first time hahaha. At one point in my life, I've been soooo insecure at my boyfriend's ex and the lyrics just hits me like a damn truck because my thoughts are exactly the same!! I mean, sometimes you just can't help to compare yourself from an ex you know?

I love the contrast of this vs. the other 3 songs because this is pop rock. I love the instrumentals for this!

16. girl i've always been

Rating: 8/10

Memorable line/s:

"And I can't say I'm a perfect ten. But I am the girl I've always been"

A country song! I love how lively this song is. The lyrics is kind of empowering in a way because it feels like Olivia has accepted that she is flawed and is not pretending to be that perfect girl anymore.

17. scared of my guitar

Rating: 7.5/10

Memorable line/s:

"I can't lie to it the same way that I lie to you"

"So we'll stay together 'cause how could I ever trade something that's good for what's right."

Another sad song (please Olivia I'll run out of tears!). I think Olivia is pertaining to her songwriting skills here and how she uses it to express her raw and authentic self. She compares how honest she is with her songwriting versus her relationship with others. It is implied that she isn't transparent about her feelings with other people, possibly because she is protecting herself.

18. stranger

Rating: 10/10

Memorable line/s:

"I cried a million rivers for you but that's over now. You're just a stranger I know everything about"

"You are the best thing that I'll ever keep so far out of my life"

"If I'm not enough for you, you're not enough for me"

This song is so uplifting and positive for someone who already moved on. I love the lyrics of this as it speaks about moving forward and forgiving someone but never forgetting. Oh! and I love the reference from "enough for you". I also love the guitar on this one.

19. so american

Rating: 9/10

Memorable line/s:

"He's like a poem I wish I wrote"

"Oh god, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much"

"I'm probably gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up"

"I really love my bed but man it's hard to sleep when he's with me"

"I don't wanna assume this stuff. But ain't it love? I think I'm in love"

Guysss we finally have a love song!! This is such a perfect way to end an album together with "stranger" because it feels like a chapter has closed and another one has opened! This is her first love song since her debut right?? It's sooo good. The lyrics are so cute and makes me smile. She describes this guy as the best thing that's ever happen to her and that makes me happy somehow? She sounds sooo inlove and adorableee! I really love the bridge it makes me all giggly ><

-----

My Top 5 Picks:

stranger

the grudge

love is embarrassing

obsessed

pretty isn't pretty

-----

Overall Thoughts:

I gotta say, kudos to Olivia and her team because they manage to create another good album! It's great that they are consistent with pop rock and ballads and I especially appreciate that they added a little country touch on the song list!

Overall, like Sour, I love how this album is so personal. Ngl, this made me cry more than Sour ><

-----

[heartsyncproductions]

Spring Boy Dev Log #1

I can't believe it's been a month since otome jam ended, I blinked and here we are aha. Suffice to say, I got distracted with a whole lot of other things in the past month, and I blinked and suddenly, here we were. I played a good dozen or so otome/josei jam entries in the mean time and dealt with real life things. All that to say, I meant to get more done. Oops.

The full demo will still likely release in the original window (late August about) and I did get things done, despite how my intro made it sound. Specifically, I worked a lot more on the art side than anything.

First and foremost, we have a proper main menu!

I also did simple customization to the GUI. 

Behold, a basic save menu.

I also did all the art for all the intro CGs, as well as did general edits to the script in regards to typos/grammar issues. Basically, a lot of what was done was going back and finishing what was in the original short demo. I'll leave Mickie's and Sparrow's CGs as a surprise, but here's Vasant's first CG!

There he is, the game's poster pretty boy. I actually like how all the CGs turned out, and I hope you enjoy them too!

Lastly, I finished up the sprites for two of the characters who'll appear in the full demo. Meet Robin and Blythe!

With that said, I just need to finish the writing of the final parts of the script (easy) and complete the remaining backgrounds (pain). Funnily enough I love drawing scenery when it's traditional art, but my traditional style doesn't translate well to digital style at all. At the very least, it was a much more severe learning curve in Memory Ghosts, and this hasn't been too bad. 

I've also been trying to learn how to code more things with Ren'py aka studying it more. There's a few things I'd like to do with this game, and hopefully I can wrap my brain around how things work.

Finally, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who checked out the demo!! Seeing people enjoyed it, even in it's current state, was nice to see and appreciate everyone who gave it a chance! The next time I see you it'll be with a demo that showcases the themes of the game a lot better aha. I'll see you then!

ALSO I forgot on my itch.io post to add this but also have a list of the other otome/josei jam entries I played and enjoyed:

Intertwine by Crescence Studios

DATA BR<3ACH by camrip, ponzer, and Mood Kindred

Assignment Project Blue by reidubu!

Karamu by Chattercap

Yamedomo by ty

Go check them out if you haven't already! I also still have a lot more I need to knock out, but I'm taking time with them lol and now that is all! Fare thee well and thanks for reading!

[mary-is-writing]

An update about The Monsters Only We See

+ my future writing

Things have happened in the last couple of days and I have some news for you. They're not bad news, but relevant ones. It's about the near future of both my current project TMOWS and my future project that I'll announce soon. This is a long one, so I'll put it under a read more.

TMOWS taglist +/-: @gabelish @mel-writes-with-her-dragons

(hey sorry I don't use the taglist a lot 😬 I'll try to use it more and it's still open for anyone who wants to get added)

Things have happened and decisions have been made so sit with me for a second.

As you may know if you follow me, one of my goals for this year was that I wanted to publish The Monsters Only Wee See. I finished the final version of it around April or May (and the English translation not too long ago) and since then I wanted to get the register for copyright, ISBN and self publish of it done before this year ended. I thought I could do it in a few months at max, but then irl stuff just kept happening to me and I had to kept pushing back starting the process. Recently tho, I finally did and I got the first step done: get a special signature required for the registration. However, an unexpected turn of events occurred.

While reading about the process of it in order to know what to do next, something very troublesome caught my attention: the process could be started online, but has to be finished in person in the offices of the copyright organization for my country. This is all reasonable, of course you'd want to do an in-person procedure when it comes to giving the rights of a thing to someone. That isn't the problematic part.

The problem is that the offices are only in the capital of the country. Only there. ONLY there.

There's not like, a building per state and then HQ is in the capital like I imagined, no. Only there they are. And the capital is very, very far away from where I live. Going there by bus in NOT an option, and the plane can be expensive. I have to double check to make sure there's absolutely no option to do the procedure online, and talking to a parent about this situation, I've come to a decision.

The Monsters Only Wee See will not be published this year.

Tbh, this sucks. I really wanted to get this out by this year, but it's simply not realistic. Next year there will probably come a time where I have to move for a period of time near the capital, and then going back and forth in order to do the registration will be easier, so it'll have to wait till then. It sucks that I have to keep pushing back this project's end, but I also wanna do right by it, by getting the copyright and the ISBN and publish it properly. And who knows, maybe by then I'll be working so I'd have money to pay an actual book cover artist for the cover!! Silver linings, y'all.

So. What now? Well, since I thought I'd publish it during this year, I've also been pushing back introducing my next wip, the one I'll work in now alongside WCB. I did so as a way to keep my ADHD from ADHD-ing so I could focus on getting TMOWS out first and then working on the next one. However, since TMOWS is not gonna come out any time soon...I can now put it in the back burner and work on the next one! So that's what I'll do!!

Thus I'll be introducing a new wip sometime soon. I have to get the final details ready (like a mood board lol) in order to do a proper wip intro, but you'll be seeing it sooner than later. This also means I'll start writing the first draft for it that, technically, I've already started, but I can't decide on the hook so I've haven't done any progress at all.

So the posts about my wips will look something like this from now on:

TMOWS - Updates about the progress in the registration process.

WCB - Little excerpts and/or posts about the writing of Book 2.

New wip - Intro post for the wip and the characters, and little excerpts and/or posts about writing the first draft.

That's all I wanted to say, just an explanation of why TMOWS won't come out this year, why I'm putting it on hold for now and some preparation for the new wip. Thank you if you read until the end, and we'll see again soon.

Stay safe, stay healthy and happy writing!!

[tellywoodtrash]

Hi TT!long time no see..how are you?also I'm so happy to know that you like Ok Taec- yepn 💖 he's...dreamy..have you heard his English? It's very..uhh..proper without being overly formal..is it weird that I like that about him?? Have you watched the Netflix documentaries like 'The Romantics' or the new Crime thriller 'Dahaad'? I'm not a series girl thanks to my attention span of a goldfish but I watched both and they are not bad!!the Romantics takes me back to those golden years of the Yash raj studio Mannn🥺🥺 Dahaad was a good watch, the victims or the crime were not shown distastefully and maybe cause it's made by a woman...please watch it if you can TT..also sorry for my previous ask which was REALLY long and messy before this( I don't even remember what I wrote 😓)..hope you have a really great week and hugs to your Kitty 💖💖💖

Hi friendddddd!

How you been!? Long time since I've seen you around these parts! Hope life has been kind to you.

Girl, I went into Vincenzo for the female gaze and Song Joong Ki as a Mafia man taking down capitalism (which is what Mais baited me with) but I came out IN LOVE with Ok Taecyeon. I truly loved his unhinged performance and had to find out allllll about the guy, and to my absolute delight, he's suchhhhh a fucking dork (affectionate); I can't believe that they saw this gianttttttt silly boi and were like yeah, HIM; he'll play the psycho!!! I'm not into K-pop like at alllll, but I'll listen to some 2PM occasionally just coz he's in it, lol. I'll also watch anything he's in coz he's truly one of my fave Kdrama actors (if not the toppppppp fave!) His upcoming vampire show looks absolutely adorable and is my most awaited thing of this month.

(This show can fix me, i know it can!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I tried watching The Romantics but like..... 2 minutes in, Ranveer Singh walked in being annoying and I was like nope!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and turned it off. I'll revisit it again when I'm in a much more patient mood lmao. I haven't been watching any Desi stuff other than the occasional movie here or there (and mostly not bollywood), so Dahaad is one of those things I put on my watch list, but am not currently in the headspace for.

Neverrrrrr everrrrrrr apologize for asking for help/comfort!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Like yes, the words may not be perfect, and my replies sure as hell will never always make it all better, but that's the human experience babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy *Coach Beard from Ted Lasso voice*

[oneofthepowerful]

May 22nd 2024 - Blog 5

Hi everyone, and welcome to the next development blog!

First of all...

I apologise for not being consistent in my upload schedule! I wanted to upload a blog every week or so, but it's been over 2 months! Though I have been working on things which we shall discuss in this blog!

Rigging

Since the last blog, what progress has been made to Hoshi's test head rig? I mentioned last time I was working on the turnaround, so what progress have I made since then? Well... nothing noteworthy sadly. Life got pretty busy and there was other things I needed to put time into which we shall get into in a bit.

Though that doesn't mean I haven't need rigging at all! Quite the opposite actually!

For starters, I wanted to make a full body rig of my avatar for a animated short that is in indefinite hiatus, so I don't know if I will finish it or not. For this project, I wanted to practice rigged animation for One of the Powerful, however I didn't get too far. Though I learned a lot making this full-body rig, which I will put into future rigs!

After that, last week I wanted to make a rigged animation of a character who I will not elaborate on due to spoilers and well... here is what I made:

I made the rig for this character in a few hours, a lot quicker than Hoshi's head rig, that's for sure! While this rig is very unpolished and can't turn her head and can only bend what you see in the animation - as a test rig, I am pretty proud of this!

This was also a lot quicker to animate than if it were frame by frame although I will admit... I struggle to animate in Blender. I've noticed that animating rigs in Blender at this point in time is difficult, as there is soooooo many things to keep track off, and if you aren't careful the animation can easily get messed up with parts of the character deforming and moving when you don't want them to. T-T

However this is what the final series could potentially look like! Just a lot more polished as this rig and animation was a super quick job. (The final series will look better I promise!)

Outline Rewrite

So during the last month or so, I have finally decided to mostly rewrite the current outline of the series. I wrote the original outline back in 2022 during my free time at school, and I honestly didn't have as many things planned out as I do now. For an example the antagonists didn't have much a reason for doing what they are doing except: "hehe I want Powerful to suffer!" really basic and not well written. Where as now, I have all the characters a lot more fleshed out! So far I have only touched up the first two seasons which I shall elaborate on:

Season 1

The first half of season 1 (the first 3 episodes) have basically stayed the same writing wise! The only major change being Hoshi's fight in Episode 3. At the time of storyboarding it last year, I was very stumped and not very inspired. Now however, I have a much better idea of how I want the scene to play out, to add to the mystery of Hoshi's backstory.

The later half of season 1, mainly the finale has changed a lot from its original conception. I won't say much other than... things happen! season 1 has more of a focus seeing a snippet of Powerless Territory in episode 1, to then seeing how Powerful Territory (near the boarder at least) has it's own problems from dealing with the Powerless conflict.

As well as this, season 1 focuses mostly on Hoshi and his whole deal. With each passing episode, him getting more and more on edge about... something! And by the end of season 1, you see an inside to a little bit of his problems which he will continue to overcome and confront in season 2.

Down below is some concept art of Season 1!!

Season 2

Season 2 has more of a focus on Seaside as well as focusing on the main trio! We see Erin learn more about... things... we get a proper insight to Cassidy's problems, as well as Hoshi trying overcome things from his past!

We get to meet some of the residents of Seaside, and a snippet of the lore of the location! Seaside is a paradise for Powerful and Seaside born Powerless. and So it is important that it is protected at all cost! This season is around 17 episodes, as we focus on many things that will be built up as the story progresses! Season 2 is a lot of fun! and I can't wait to eventually start working on it!

I can't really say much on season 2 for obvious reasons and as of right now I am re-outlining season 3! I won't say much either, except this is the season where Erin starts to go down a darker path, and the season 3 finale is really exciting and ends on a big cliff hanger!

Which takes us to season 4, where we finally see the Erin with the short hair! I am debating whether this to be the final season or not (I guess we will see when I outline it all!)

Upcoming plans

After the series is fully outlined, where does that take us? Well... I want to take some time to flesh out the environments of Powerful Territory and Seaside, as I felt like my background designs are bland and can be more creative and unique! So each location the trio visit in season 1 will (hopefully) be more distinct and memorable from one another!

Aside from all of this, I have been working on updating character references for the trio to keep them on model!

Ever wanted to know the Erin, Cassidy and Hoshi's height? Well here is the height chart for them:

Yes they are all super short XD I will mention that Hoshi is tiny for a plot reason, a hint is that he does not take care of himself, but starting from season 2 - when he is mentally in a relatively better place and has a much better support system. Hoshi will gradually become taller and broader as the series progresses!

I recently finished a turnaround + expression reference sheet of Erin! This took me forever to draw as I was trying to keep it all consistent, and I felt the pressure to make this as good as I could for my portfolio. XD

This turnaround will be used as a rigging guide, so it's important it is as consistent it can be for that purpose!

And alas, that is what I've been doing since the last blog! Thank you for reading! Until next time!

[jonsnows]

Drogon & Rhaegal in Game of Thrones season 8 trailer

[mydearzero]

hi hi hi! i cannot get over the idea of someone cooking eddie a really nice meal for the first time and he’s caught off guard. he walks in, sees the food and the person who cooked, and just… relaxes, any anxiety he had from that day dissipates. he almost cries because he didn’t have this growing up and this is one of the kindest things someone has done for him.

eddie being doted on is so near to my heart. the boy really deserves it🥰

Hi, thank you so much for your request! It's a little short, but sweet.

Marinara Sauce | E.M. x gn!Reader

MASTERLIST

Summary: Eddie's day couldn't get any worse. Everything was going to shit, until he found reader and Dustin in his trailer cooking him dinner.

Starts with some Angst. Fluff, hints at some underlying romantic feelings.

Gender neutral reader

Eddie's day couldn't get any worse, honestly. He flunked another math test, had to cancel Hellfire because he hadn't been able to prepare due to studying for said math test, and now his van wouldn't start.

"Great, just great." He muttered to himself as he hit the steering wheel. He ran his ring-clad fingers over his face a few times before finally breaking down. How was he ever going to get out of Hawkins when he couldn't even finish high school?

He wasn't stupid. He understood the material when he put in the effort. He just had a hard time studying and paying attention when there were much more fun things he could be thinking about, like a new campaign.

He did great in school up until junior year. He could've finished middle school with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back, so why was it he couldn't anymore?

Ever since his accident (read: attack by demon bats) 7 months ago, Wayne had been putting in more hours to support his nephew's recovery. Eddie had told him often he didn't need any extra help, but Wayne insisted. Eddie couldn't be more grateful. Still, his uncle couldn't come get him, so either he fixed his van or he'd have to walk home.

He sighed as he got out and popped the hood. Nothing seemed to be amiss. He put the hood back down and returned to the driver's seat. He tried one more time to get the engine to start, and nearly started crying when it finally sprung to life. "Thank god."

He quickly drove home in fear of the van dying once more. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the microwave meal waiting for him. Maybe he'd finally learn to cook sometime soon.

Eddie parked the van next to the trailer hastily. His brows furrowed when he noticed the lights were on inside. Wasn't Wayne at work? Wasn't he supposed to come home late? He brushed it off and stepped out of the vehicle.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Eddie was sure his nose was betraying him. What the hell smelled so amazing? Did his uncle suddenly gain the talents of a chef overnight?

He opened the door and turned to put his jacket on the hook next to the door. "Hey Wayne, I don't know what you're making, but that smells so go- You're not Wayne. What are you doing here?"

You grinned as Eddie complimented the food you'd prepared for him with a little help from Dustin. "We knew your uncle would probably be working, and since you haven't had time to work on your campaign, we thought we'd cook you dinner so you can have all the time in the world to get caught up!"

Eddie almost melted at the sight before him. "Is that?" Eddie pointed at the dish.

"Homemade spaghetti with Marinara sauce and meatballs? Yeah, it is. Dustin said it was your favourite." You gestured for him to sit on the couch, bringing him a loaded plate and a cup of soda.

Eddie felt all anxiety and stress from the day wash away in an instant, glancing at you with nothing but love as he took the first bite. "This is delicious. I think I'm gonna marry you. And we'll adopt Henderson. I'm not letting you leave after this, you understand that, right?" His eyes were nearly filled with tears at the taste of homecooked food. When had the last time been he'd actually eaten a proper cooked meal?

You laughed from the kitchen as you made Dustin and yourself a plate. "I'm glad you like it, it's my neighbour's recipe for the sauce, she's from Italy, so you know it's gonna be good." You ignored the comment about marrying you, even though it made your heart flutter and blood rush to your cheeks.

You handed Dustin his plate and sat next to Eddie on the couch. "You deserve it, Eddie. You studied hard. It's not easy to just ignore everything that happened and go back to the way things used to be." Dustin spoke with his mouth full.

"I still failed, though," Eddie mumbled dejectedly as he stabbed one of the meatballs.

"What grade did you get? You needed a C- to pass, right?" You asked. Eddie nodded. "I got a D. So I wasn't even that far off, but still, that's a fail. I'm never gonna get out of high school."

"Is there any way you can get extra credit?" Dustin asked. Eddie shrugged. "There's this extra assignment that if I were to do well on it, it would bump my grade to a C. But I just know I won't do well on it, so why bother."

"I could help you if you want? I can come here after school and cook dinner while you work on the assignment. Then we can look it over together afterwards." You suggested. Eddie gaped at you. "You'd do that for me?" His thoughts filled with all the steaming hot goodness you'd prepare for him as he studied.

"Of course, Eddie. You're one of my best friends. I only want what's best for you. If that means hanging out with you after school, I mean, that's only a bonus."

Eddie put his head on your shoulder, his plate now empty and on the table. "That would mean the world to me." He smiled up at you. You didn't know what you did to deserve the look of pure adoration, but you'd take it. You grabbed his head and placed a quick peck on the top of his head.

"Suddenly, my hunger is gone. You guys are gross." Dustin grumbled. "You watch out, Henderson. I'm gonna be your dad. I can ground you."

All three of you laughed. Sure, you were all still healing from the trauma the Upside Down caused. But you were healing together. Slowly but surely, you'd get there. Together.

[dungeons-are-too-cold]

New Favorite Holiday (GN! Reader)

Summary: A birthday surprise gone wrong that actually ends up going right again. Spencer tries to throw a surprise party for you, but it triggers a meltdown in front of the team. He knows how to calm you down because there is something you haven't told each other: you're both autistic.

Pairing: Autistic! Spencer Reid x autistic! Reader

Warnings: gender neutral reader, autistic meltdown, harmful stim, mention of throwing up, self-hatred/ negative self-talk relating to reader’s autism, comfort, mentions of food rules, fluff, cuddling, mutual stimming

Author’s Note: Hey! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I hope I've done all this right lol. I did my best with tagging but if there's anything I missed please feel free to let me know so I can edit the tags or edit any warnings! 

Word count: 4.9k

Hope you enjoy :)

Read on AO3 here

You had never liked your birthday. Kids could be cruel, especially growing up wanting to be in the FBI, so you never really made many friends. There were no birthday parties or classroom cupcakes. You mostly spent your birthday at home alone, your mom and dad usually too busy working to do something with you. Money and a note on the counter would tell you to order something special and get dessert.

“You deserve a proper birthday. Ya know, one with cake, and presents, and balloons, and everything,” Spencer said. It had been only a few months since you joined the BAU when the team first discovered your birthday situation. Spencer’s reaction when you told him was a mixture of shock and recognition. He never really had much of a birthday growing up, either, but he assumed you were at least a little more popular than he was in high school, considering he was twelve.

That first birthday at the BAU, Spencer snuck into the office really early to decorate your desk. There were donuts and balloons and a sign that said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N” in big, bright letters. Everyone in the office wanted to come up and say happy birthday. It was a constant barrage of handshakes and hugs and claps on the shoulder. There were so many balloons tied to your office chair and they squeaked whenever you shifted. It got really overwhelming, so you tried to calm yourself down. A black pair of noise cancelling headphones found their way over your ears, and you went to see if the conference room was empty; it was the place you liked to stim the most because it had the space to rock on your feet the way you liked. Plus, you could close all the curtains so no one would see you.

It had only been a few months of being on the team at this point, and you wanted to keep your diagnosis a secret. Emily knew, of course, because it was in your psych evaluation. However, you weren’t exactly ready to broadcast that you were autistic to the whole BAU. You had never really had to tell anyone like that. Plus, if they were good enough profilers, they would figure it out on their own. You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but you would cross that bridge when you got there. Right now, you needed to stim, so you shuffled off to the conference room.

“Surprise!” the whole team shouted as you walked through the door. Luke and Matt both popped a party popper over your head as Penelope brought over a cake, candles already lit. With everyone singing and celebrating, you found yourself frozen, panic rushing suddenly through every inch of your body. Breathing became difficult, the lights were burning into your eyes, and you felt incredibly disoriented. All you wanted to do was turn and run, but all you could do was rock back and forth and start to hit your head.

“Woah, are you alright?” Luke moved to touch your shoulder, but a small whine escaped your lips before he had the chance. You couldn’t be touched right now; it would absolutely send you over the edge and you were doing your best to keep some semblance of calm in front of your teammates.

After shutting your eyes, you were able to briefly pull your hands from your head to sign “quiet”, signaling Luke to shut off the music.

“Hey, Y/N. Its Spencer. I’m gonna move past you really quick to shut off the lights, okay?” You gave a small nod of assurance, and the space behind your eyelids went dark.

“Can you move right now?”

You shook your head.

“Do you want everyone else to leave?”

You signed yes. Shuffling soon died down and you opened your eyes. Spencer was standing just a few feet from you.

“I’m gonna stay with you, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself, okay?”

You sat down on the floor right by the door. Standing was getting to be too much, and you wanted to rock back and forth. Your colleague sat down opposite you.

“Would pressure be helpful right now?” He spoke softly, as to not hurt your ears. You were in survival mode and would taker any comfort you could get, so you simply tapped your back and nodded your head. There was a little bit of space between you and the wall, which Spencer gently worked himself into, placing you between his legs.

“I’m going to put my arms around you now, around your middle.” You sank down so your head was on his chest, and you banged it softly against him. Eventually you were able to calm down enough that a few tears slipped from the corner of your eye. Spencer was quick to wipe them away. “I am so sorry about this. I didn’t think about how overwhelming it might be for you,” he said as he gently stroked your hair.

“It’s okay, it was really sweet of you to try,” you croaked out, voice still not quite there. As overwhelmed as you were, you had never had someone care this much about you. You really did think it was sweet of him to put all of this together, you were just nervous about how you would look to the team. It was the first meltdown you had ever had in front of them.

All of a sudden, feelings of shame and embarrassment washed over you as you realized something: you just had a meltdown in front of the whole team.

You thought about how stupid you must have looked to the rest of the team; you couldn’t even let Luke touch you. They had all gone out of their way to be nice to you when they didn’t have to, and you were ungrateful and ruined it by freaking out and crying like a baby. And on top of that, what if they think you can’t do your job now? How will they treat you out in the field if you can’t even handle a birthday surprise? There’s no way anything will be okay on the team again.

Your breathing picked up and you felt frantic. All of a sudden Spencer’s hold felt impossibly tight around you, like he was strangling you, and you clawed to get away.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself. You returned to hitting your head as the tears started flowing. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Strangled cries spilled from your mouth as you pressed your back against the ground, feet flat against the carpet and arms digging as hard as they could into your stomach.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N, no one thinks this is stupid. I’m the stupid one, I should have known to ask.” Spencer slowly made his way over to where you laid. Now completely exhausted, you were more willing to lean on him. You needed the support and would worry about the consequences and conversations later. Right now, getting your breathing back to a regular rhythm was the number one priority; you couldn’t get a deep breath and a painful case of hiccups wasn’t making it any easier.

“I’m going to reach up behind me and grab a bottle of water, okay?” You nodded and he shifted beside you.“Okay, I’m gonna have you sit up so you can take a sip. Hold the water in your mouth for a sec, and then lean your head back on my lap so you’re slightly upside down. I know its gonna feel weird and might be a little scary right now, but I think it will help with the hiccups, okay?”

He gently stroked your hair until you started to prop yourself up. Reid’s arms were suddenly hooked under yours to help you take some water into your mouth before helping you lay back in his lap. With your eyes closed, you held your breath for a moment and then swallowed.

You could feel that the hiccups had passed when you sat up again with Spencer. The two of you moved in silence against the nearest wall to support you both as he held you.

“I am so sorry Spencer. I ruined your surprise for me, and I probably freaked everyone out and I feel so bad because you all tired really hard to make it special for me. I’m so stupid.”

“Shh, Y/n don’t feel bad, please, I got carried away. I of all people should have paid more attention. This celebration was supposed to be about you, and I had every opportunity to ask if this would be overwhelming, but I didn’t and I’m sorry.” Spencer couldn’t meet your eyes. Hurting you was never, ever his intention. You repositioned yourself between his legs, this time slightly on your side to lay your cheek against his chest, almost to comfort him. Instinctually, his arms wrapped around you. You wondered what he meant when he said he of all people should have paid more attention.

“As for the team, this was nothing for them, especially nothing new. We all get panic attacks, and we all have triggers, so the team understand. I understand. Just before you joined the team, I had a meltdown on the jet of all places. Luke’s headphones were rattling every time the bass in his music was particularly low and I spent twenty minutes throwing up and screaming in the bathroom before passing out from how exhausted I was.” It wasn’t funny, but he let out a small laugh. “Matt told me he almost peed himself.”

“You passed out in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, it was bad. I probably should have remembered to eat before we got on the plane, but I am not exactly consistent in the food department. It was a lot of dry heaving.”

You let yourself chuckle at the story as you pressed further into him. You were able to match your breathing to his and the resonance of his voice in his chest was comforting, almost like brown noise. His cologne smelled sweet and full like autumn and his cardigan was soft against your face. Thinking through all your sense was a way you helped calm yourself down, and you were grateful that everything about Spencer in this moment seemed to be sensory friendly.

“I’m sorry for laughing.”

“It’s okay, it just goes to show that the team doesn’t care about stuff like that. They just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Can I ask you something?” you questioned tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have meltdowns?”

“I’m actually autistic. I wasn’t diagnosed until I started at the bureau. My old supervisor, Hotch, helped me get a diagnosis so he could officially request accommodations for me.”

“Oh. That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, he was great. Emily has helped me adjust them too since she became unit chief. After coming back from prison, a lot of things had changed, so we updated what I needed, and things have been going pretty well so far. There’s a lot more noted in my file. If you ever feel like taking a look, you have my full permission.” Spencer said this almost knowingly, like he was nudging you to ask more questions, or to give him some indication that this was helping.

You could tell he had his suspicions about what exactly was going on, so you decided now was as good a time as any to tell him.

“I was diagnosed during my PhD program a few years ago; also with autism if that wasn’t clear, sorry. A professor who was supervising my research on neurodivergence in criminal behavioral analysis suggested I get evaluated.” You were almost ashamed to admit this next part. “I’ve never had any accommodations before. I don’t even know what I would need or what would help.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know everything or even do it on your own. That’s why I said my file is open if you want to take a look. Sometimes you don’t know you need or want something until you know it’s an option. It was a lot of trial and error to get to where I am now, and there were a lot of bumps along the way, trust me, but it gets easier. I promise.”

“Thanks, Spence.”

“You are incredibly strong, y/n, there is no doubt about that, but you don’t have to do this alone.”

Eventually the two of you made your way off the floor. You sat in one of the rolling office chairs, music in your headphones, while Reid took down the balloons and moved them out of the conference room. When he entered again, a few of your colleagues came in with him to check on you.

“Do you think it’s alright if Luke and Penny come in? They wanted to make sure you were okay.” You nodded your head and removed your headphones. Things seemed calm enough and the foam was starting to irritate you.

Luke immediately signed to you, asking if you were okay, to which you responded you were, just a little tired. It surprised you that he remembered you signing before they left, but you were grateful.

“Sorry about the touching,” Luke signed back.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. I’m okay with it now.”

That was his cue to make his way over you. He ruffled your hair a bit before you hugged him from your seat.

“Thank you for signing with me,” you said as you pulled away.

“Anything for you.”

Penelope came and kneeled next to you. She gently placed her hand on your knee and rubbed little circles. It was calming; she always knew how to put you at ease.

“Hey sugar, I am so sorry about all of this. Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yeah, Pen, I’m alright. Alright enough to have some cake, maybe? If that’s alright?”

“Omg yes absolutely!” You chuckled as Penelope rushed around the room to find plates, utensils, and all the necessary accoutrement for serving you the dessert she baked herself. Spencer knew you well enough to know your favorite cake and asked her to help him since his cooking skills were basically nonexistent.

“Do you think you could get the rest of the team to come back in?” you said to Luke.

“Absolutely, are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded your head and he left to grab everyone else. Spencer turned the lights back on and moved to a chair by your side. His hand found yours and squeezed it as the team filed back in.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to say something to you all,” you started. Reid gave an assuring nod as everyone found seats around the conference room. Any concern they had was alleviated as they saw you smile at the sight of them. Despite the hectic events of the day, you were really grateful to have the team in your life.

“I wanna say thank you for wanting to celebrate my birthday. As you have probably gathered, I am not used to this kind of thing. I haven’t really told anyone this but I’m autistic so I can have a hard time with surprises or changes in my routine. Please don’t feel bad for my reaction, there was no way you would have known since I didn’t tell you. It was just a bit overwhelming to have so much going on today. I don’t ever really celebrate my birthday. That said, I am so grateful to all of you for wanting to make this special for me. I’m really happy that I have all of you in my life and I hope we can all still have some cake and such but just maybe we don’t like pop a bunch of things and have loud music on and yell and stuff all at the same time anymore. I mean been there done that, am I right?” Luckily the team let out a collective laugh at the lighthearted ending of your speech showing there was no animosity here or need for concern or guilt.

***

Spencer drove you home after the party. The team hadn’t had a case all week, so Emily let you take the rest of the day off to recover from all the excitement. The radio quietly lulled in the background as you curled up in the passenger seat. Reid was a very cautious driver normally, he was a both hands on the wheel kind of guy, but he wanted to give you some kind of comfort, so he let his right hand find yours over the center console. You gladly took it, staring up at your colleague to watch him drive. His brow furrowed in this really cute v shape when he concentrated that you couldn’t help but smile at. Normally you wouldn’t allow yourself to stare like this, but the combination of how tired you were and how comfortable Spencer made you feel had you dropping your mask in ways you never imagined you would, or even could.

As he scrunched up his nose at a red light, a loc of hair fell from behind his ear into his face. He turned to look at you, disappointed, when your hand left his, but you quickly reached up and tucked the loose curls back behind his ear. Lingering for a moment on his cheek, you placed your hand back in his. For all the comfort he offered you today, you wanted to offer him some in return. He smiled as a thank you before the horn of the car behind his loudly let you know the light was green.

“Well, this is me,” you said as Spencer pulled up to your apartment building.

“I guess it is.”

The two of you lingered in the car. Neither of you wanted to part just yet, but someone needed to say it.

“Spence?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Would you want to come in? Maybe? I have coffee or tea or water or really anything I actually just went to the store yesterday so the pantry and fridge are like full and everything and maybe you could like stay and we could watch a movie or something? I was gonna do that anyway because it’s like a birthday tradition for me I guess so I thought maybe you might wanna come up but it’s also like totally cool if you had other plans or even if you just don’t want to you don’t have t-”

“Y/n, slow down. If you would have me, I’d really like to stay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

The two of you headed upstairs to your apartment. It wasn’t very big, but that made it incredibly cozy. The dark blue walls paired with your deep orange sofa made you feel at home. When you moved in, you did your best to make walking inside feel like a deep pressure hug, and although it wasn’t perfect yet, you immediately eased up upon entering.

“Your place looks incredible.”

“Thanks, it’s not perfect, or even clean really, but it always feels nice to come home to.”

The two of you headed into your kitchen as you pulled down a cup for yourself.

“Do you have a cup preference? I guess first I should be asking what you want to drink.” You rummaged momentarily through the fridge and started to rattle off beverage choices. “I’ve got coffee and tea like I said, and hot chocolate for hot drinks, and in the fridge, I’ve got sparkling water, regular water, both bottled and from the filter, lemonade, iced tea, its peach, apple juice, orange juice, protein shakes, meal replacement shakes, chocolate milk, that’s what I’m having, regular milk, almond milk, soy milk, coconut water-”

“Do you really have that many drink options?” Spencer seemed genuinely shocked by your list. You couldn’t quite tell if that was good or bad, though.

“Yeah, not really great with most foods but I love a good beverage. I like to make mocktails in my free time too, so I have a lot of options. Which reminds me I have some alcohol-free liquor if you really wanna party”

“I think I’ll stick to water; I haven’t had any today so it's probably a good idea. And if its okay, I'd like some ice?”

“Excellent choice, sir. And for your cup?” Spencer gave you a slightly puzzled look when you asked him about his cup preference. “For routine reasons I have a particular cup I like to use for particular liquids, so I wasn’t sure if you have any preference. And for sensory reasons, there’s also some kind of cups I can’t use at all, like anything with matte or frosted plastic and anything with a thick rim, and also anything that is bigger at the bottom than it is at the top like wine glasses. So sorry if you’re looking for a wine glass, but, uh, I have most other cups.” Reid stared blankly for a moment, and you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. Eventually he gave a slight nod, like he was moving past something, overlooking something weird and continuing with the conversation. It wasn’t exactly settling to see that look on his face.

“Um, I’ll take something tall please, and glass, I don’t really like to drink from plastic cups.”

You shuffled for a moment and found something you thought would work. Reid nodded in approval at a tall, clear glass with flat ridges on the side. After filling both of your glasses, the two of you headed to the couch. A cute set of mosaic coasters sat in a stack on the coffee table, which you quickly slid under each of your drinks.

“Cool coasters.”

“Thanks, I made them! I like to take up a lot of crafty hobbies, keeps my hands busy and distracted especially from some of my more harmful stims. My fine motor skills aren’t so great, so they are a bit messy, but I think they turned out alright.”

Immediately you felt heat rushing to your face. Spencer once again seemed confused and surprised by the sudden burst of personal information. For some reason you couldn’t shut up around Spencer. You were starting to notice just how much information about yourself you had given him involuntarily since he stepped into your apartment. It was weird to be with someone in the place you usually unmask; you hadn’t ever brought anyone into your apartment like this and now you were scaring Reid away.

After catching yourself talking so openly to Spencer so quickly, you tried your best to be quiet. In a feeble attempt to collect your thoughts, you excused yourself from the room.

“I think I’m going to change, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah of course, get comfortable.”

You changed into some pajamas and brought out a hoodie and an array of pajama pants and shorts as well as some sweats for Spencer.

“I don’t know what exactly of these things will fit you, but you can try anything you want to on in the bathroom just over there. I feel bad getting cozy when you didn’t bring anything to wear.”

“Wow, um thanks y/n, thank you. I’ll go try these.”

Spencer gently took the stack and plodded off to the bathroom. Everything since you walked in the door seemed to be weird or confusing to Spencer. He had been nothing but sweet and kind and normal all day and you’ve been making a fool of yourself at every opportunity. You didn’t want Reid thinking you were too weird.

You did your best to sit incredibly still on the couch waiting for Spencer to return from the bathroom. You could feel yourself wanting to stim but didn’t want to let yourself get carried away. Stimming would mean unmasking more and that was something you couldn’t handle. You already blurted out that you stim so much you hurt yourself sometimes, the least you could do was not let him see it. Eventually he returned with your hoodie and a pair of your pajama pants on. His mismatched socked poked out of the bottom clashing with the Christmas print of the flannel pants but, somehow, he made it work.

Spencer placed his neatly folded clothes on the floor next to the couch before sitting down next to you. You had laid a few blanket options out on the coffee table.

“Take your pick, Reid. I got a variety out to see what you liked best.”

Spencer stared at the blankets, reaching out to gently touch each one.

“Hey, y/n, thank you.”

It was your turned to look puzzled this time. Why was he thanking you?

“For what?”

“Well, it’s just you’ve been very considerate with everything, and I’ve never had anyone really think about me this much when I’ve been at their house. I mean I guess it’s not really their fault, they aren’t autistic so they might not even know that things like cups or drink options or fabric textures might be hard for me,” Spencer rambled as he started to lightly flap his hands. This was the first time you had ever seen Spencer stim in front of you. “But it’s just really nice to be around someone who understands without me having to ask. I didn’t think that was even possible.” Reid even let a little tear slip from his eye as rocked back and forth and shut his eyes really tight. You could tell now that this was what he wanted to do in the car. This was probably what he wanted to do every time he scrunched up his face for a split second but didn’t want the team to see him like this.

Everything started to make sense. Spencer wasn’t weirded out by what you had said. He was simply in shock. Neither of you had been around other autistic people much, let alone had an autistic friend before. He was just excited to finally have someone he could feel comfortable around. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and jerked your head back happily.

“Thank god that’s what this is about. I thought you thought I was weird or something.”

The two of you let out a big laugh and stimmed together for the first time. You even let yourself vocal stims, letting out a few high-pitched yips before going to take a sip of your chocolate milk.

There was a softness now between you two that wasn’t there before. So much of socializing was rigid for you, a constant guessing game of rules and lists and cues where you felt you had to deduce some kind of invisible formula from the facts of the situation in order to communicate, or at least not make a fool of yourself. The same could be said for Spencer. The way you two had to walk through the world was not conducive to who you wanted to be. But now, after today, there was no pressure to guess.

“Oh! Since this is my first time having another autistic person over, I can finally get out my stim toy box!” Immediately you rushed to your bedroom and pulled out a small plastic bin filled with all kinds of stim toys. “I usually use these when I watch a movie, so I don’t end up texting or playing a game on my phone and missing the whole plot, which happens more often than I’d like to admit.”

“This is the coolest thing ever! Remind me to show you my stim toy drawer at work when we go in tomorrow.” The two of you picked out a few stim toys to hold onto for the movie. The blanket Spencer picked was big enough for the two of you to share so you both snuggled up close to each other and got comfortable.

As the movie progressed, you found yourself wanting more touch from Spencer. With his permission you climbed into his lap and curled up on his chest with your arms around his shoulders. He squeezed back tightly around your middle, bringing you two even closer. Spencer placed a small kiss on the top of your head.

You looked up at him. His big hazel eyes looked back at you as he smiled.

“What was that for?” you questioned with a smile.

“I just really like you is all. I’m sorry I didn’t ask.”

“It’s okay. I really like you too. Like romantically. You weren’t exactly specific.”

“I like you romantically.”

“Okay cool because it would be really awkward right now if you didn’t.”

Your hands found Spencer’s cheeks as you leaned in and placed your lips on his. The both of you couldn’t help but smile into your first kiss. It was sweet and full and long overdue. The two of you felt made for each other in this moment, perfectly fitting into one another as you moved in sync through the kiss. When you finally pulled away, movie completely abandoned at this point, you couldn’t help but burry yourself in Spencer’s chest, pushing the two of you back on the couch laying down. All Reid could do in this moment was gently card his finger through your hair, smiling lazily at the ceiling with you starting to silently drift off. The day hadn’t been perfect, but you seemed happy now and that was enough for him.

“I think your birthday is my new favorite holiday,” he said to himself, as you were now fully asleep on his chest. “Happy birthday, y/n”

[holdmytesseract]

First Word 》 The Baby Fever AU

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Request/Idea: "Ella saying her first words, first words obviously being “dada” since she’s such a daddy’s girl" - by @aagn360 😄

Summary: Ella speaks her first word, causing Loki to get quite a bit emotional...

Warnings: nothing, this is suuuper fluffy

Word Count: 1k

a/n: Aww! I love this so much! Thanks @aagn360 ! And I also love auntie Nat! 🥰

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @theaudacitytowrite @lady-rose-moon @aagn360 @fictive-sl0th @mostclevermiss

If you want to be added to my Loki Taglist, please let me know! 😊

The Baby Fever AU Masterlist

"Here comes the plane!" I said in a playful voice, while manoeuvring the little plastic spoon through the air - like plane, before heading for Ella's mouth. My way of feeding her the mashed carrots caused the little girl to giggle uncontrollably - what in return made me laugh as well. "Baby girl, you are supposed to eat, not giggle." I laughed, tickling her belly. She kicked her legs, smiling like a Cheshire cat and wriggled about on her high chair, making it even more difficult for me to feed her. I shook my head at my daughter with a smile. "Princess, you gotta eat this. Mommy cooked it especially for you and you haven't eaten that much yet." I scooped up again some of the mashed carrots, feeding it to her. "You still need to grow big and strong." Another spoonful of carrots found its way to her small mouth. "One spoonful for daddy..." I tried to feed her with this 'tactic' - and to my surprise it really worked out quite well. She stopped to kick and giggle. "And one spoonful for uncle Thor..." "Don't forget the spoonful for auntie Nat!" The voice of my best friend suddenly urged to my ears, making me smile. I was feeding Ella in the communal kitchen today. I did that sometimes, just to get a bit out and see the others. I turned in my chair to face her. "How could I ever forget the spoonful for auntie Nat?" I stated with a giggle. Natasha stood at the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, before she walked over to us, smiling. "Hey, sweet girl!" Ella's big, blue eyes focused on Natasha; a happy squeal leaving her tiny lips. She gave her a toothy grin and waved her hands around like crazy - which caused her mop of tiny black curls to bop; visibly happy to see the spy. "Someone's happy to see you, Nat." My best friend smiled at me. "Seems so, yeah. I am excited to see her too, though." She sat down beside me and Ella and let the baby girl hold her thumb in her hand while she ate. "She's grown so big already... Unbelievable..." "I know! Lokes tells me that every day! I can't believe she's already babbling since months. I can't wait to hear her first proper word!" "Me too, honestly. It's so sweet, when she's trying to talk." We exchanged a look and a happy smile. "I am wondering what her first word might be." "Dada - I'm to 100 per cent." "Really? You think?" "Yep." I nodded, plopping the p. "Ella is a daddy's girl through and through. And Loki is also trying to encourage her to say dada, so..." Natasha just laughed and shook her head. The two of us sunk in a deep conversation - as usually, while I fed Ella, with her babbling away happily.

"Yeah, it's very difficult to reconcile everything, but we are trying. Loki tries to take me out on dates at least once every two weeks. So far it's working out pretty well, but not always." Nat nodded. "I can absolutely believe that. Having a baby isn't always easy." I shook my head. "No, but Lokes is an amazing dad and helps me wherever he can. I definitely married the right guy." I giggled. "But isn't Loki-" "Dada!" Nat stopped dead in her sentence. Both our heads snapped to the little girl, seated in the high chair. She smiled broadly at us. "What... What did you just say?" I looked at my best friend open mouthed. "Did she just...?" "Dadadada!" "She did!" We both said to each other at the same time, before literally erupting into cheers. I immediately darted forwards to lift Ella out of her chair and into my arms. "Babyyyy! You just said your first word!" I peppered kisses all over her chubby cheeks, making her giggle once again. "Say it again, sweet girl!" Encouraged her Natasha. Ella looked at her with big eyes. "Dada!" "Yes!" We had a big grin on our faces, but mine vanished as fast as it came. "We got to get Loki! He needs to hear this! Friday!" "Yes, Miss Y/N?" The A.I responded immediately. "Can you get Loki, please?" "Certainly, Miss Y/N." "Thank you!" I squealed in excitement, causing Natasha to laugh. "I am going to go now. I promised Clint to help him buy a birthday gift for his wife." "Well, off you go then. Don't let the man wait." I giggled and watched as she stood up. "Say bye bye to auntie Nat, Ella." The little girl just squeaked happily. My best friend winked at her, smiling, "Bye!" and left the big community kitchen.

A few minutes later, a sweaty, red-faced Loki sauntered into the kitchen. Strands of his raven curls stuck to his forehead. He clearly had been in the gym to train. "Darling? Friday called me; told me to go into the kitchen. Is everything alright?" I beamed at him. "Hey babe! Everything's actually more than alright! Ella spoke her first word a few minutes ago!" Loki's eyes widened, mouth agape. "S-She... she did?!" I nodded quickly. "Yes!" "Oh norns... Really?!" "Yes!" "Which word was it?!" I looked down at the small girl, sitting in my lap. "Baby are you going to speak to daddy as well?" Ella's oceanic blues switched from Loki to me and back, until she babbled out: "Dada!" His eyes widened even more - if that was possible, before they started to fill up with tears. "Princess..." Loki whispered, stepping immediately closer and squatted down in front of us. "Dada!" Ella smiled, her small hands reaching for her father. Loki's lips quivered, as the first tear ran down his cheek. "My baby girl's first word is 'dada'... I can't believe it..." Loki reached out his hands as well, wrapping them both around her middle and lifting her in his arms. "Oh my princess... My sweet, sweet princess." He peppered every inch of her face with kisses and cuddled her close against his body. I just watched those cute, beautiful scenes unfold in front of me with a smile and tears in my eyes myself. "Daddy's so, so proud of you, Ella. So proud."

[redheadspark]

hello love!

 “you look tired, love. go rest for a sec while i finish this.” for barry?

love ya!

A/N: Thanks for the request!

Rest My Dear

Summary: Leave it to Barry to make sure you get rest after the birth of your son.

*A mini sequel to Remember Me....and Like Real People Do. *

Warnings: Just some Fluff

"Babe?"

"Mmm?" you looked up from your spot on the couch, your son gurgling a bit in your lap as Barry as eyeing that pair of you. He gave you a small look of concern, a tilt of his head, and his fingers itching at your sides.

"When did you sleep last?"

You paused, thinking about the simple question he was asking. It was hard to remember when the last time you to some rest, since the whole time you were fussing and worrying over Rory. He was a good baby to take care of, not too fussy or needy. But of course, he was only a few months old and his routine was very strict when it came to feeding and sleeping. So...

"I took a small nap a few hours ago, I think," you admitted, yet you can see from the look that your husband was giving you, ti was not the answer he waned to hear. He did look a bit concerned then, walking over to you on the couch to sit next to you and give you a kind stare.

"What about a proper sleep?" He asked, sounding careful with his words but also concerned. You paused again, trying to remember when the last thing you really slept. But nothing was coming back to your memory, nothing concrete since you were moving constantly and going from one job to the next in your house.

"I don't....I don't remember," You said in a soft tone. Almost like it was some kind of trigger, you yawned and felt weary, being weary every in your bones and under your skin. For so long you were moving on adrenaline, making sure Rory was okay and getting the house taken care of all day. From the first moments of the morning until that moment when Barry came home from being on the movie set for a few hours.

You haven't slept, not in some time.

"Here, give me Rory," he said in a soft command, taking Rory with his arms before you could protest, "Go take a shower and go sleep,"

"Barry, it's okay--" You were about to argue, but he gave you a knowing stare.

"You are about to collapse any time now and you need to get some sleep, sweetheart. I can take care of Rory and get him settled while you go to sleep, okay?" Barry explained to you, making you sigh almost in defeat as you could tell this was no winning battle on your end.

"He needs to get changed and have a bottle," You explained, surpassing a yawn as Barry chuckled. He reached over with the hand that wasn't holding your son, moving your hair from your eyes and tracing the dark circles under your eyes with his fingers.

"You look tired, love. Go rest for a sec while I finish this, please," He said to you, his voice beyond soft and almost pleading. You knew that he was looking out for you, that he wanted you to take care of yourself before you could ever care for your son. It was hard to do so though, needing to make sure he was well feed or his diaper was dry or that he was getting sleep himself. Being a new mom was vastly harder than you could ever imagine, but you wouldn't trade it.

So you moved, seeing Barry smile in relief as you were dragging your feet to the master bedroom and bathroom. As you were walking away, you could hear Barry talking to Rory in a lower tone.

"Come on, bub. We need to let your mum rest for a bed, eh? Let's get ya feed and changed," He hummed to your son, sounding so happy to be with Rory as you finally made it to the bathroom. You knew Rory was in good hands with Barry, he was an amazing father and was a natural at it. Barry would help whenever he knew you need a moment or a break, no questions on his end. Plus he loved playing with Rory and seeing that baby smile, it made Barry smile wider and snap a picture or two to place on his Instagram.

You had a hot shower for what seemed like forever, but it was only a few minutes. Letting the water wash away some of the sweat, maybe some baby spit up you never thought landed on your arms, and the tiredness that was seeping within you to let yourself be calm and relaxed. It felt like it was all going down the drain as you stood under the water for a good moment, letting the steam consume you and feeling a weigh lifted. Your son was your pride and joy, literally giving your life and body to him with no hesitation or second guessing behind it.

But Barry saw you needed a recharge, far before you saw it yourself.

Finally, after washing your hair and using your softest body scrub, you found new pajamas to sink into and threw your hair up in a satin scrunchie , moving to the bed that was beckoning you. You slipped under the covers and sighed in bliss, the cool sheets and blanket against your skin was making you beyond tired. It was a true gift to get some sleep. You eyes were getting heavy, your limbs were loose and almost sinking into the mattress.

No, something else was sinking into the mattress.

"Come here, luv." You hear behind you, an arm making you roll over to be engulfed in Barry's arms. He was soothing and warm, his firm chest was a contrast to the soft sheets around you, but his arms that was around your shoulders and within your hair was enough to make you feel like jello against him.

"Where's Rory?" You hummed in a murmur to him.

"Asleep in his bassinet. You and I are gonna get some sleep, alright?" he hummed against your forehead, you nodding as he kissed your head over and over, already lewering you to sleep. He was still awake as you were out cold, your nose against his neck and your arms around his waist as he was watching you with pure love. Seeing his wife being so strong to care of his son was enough for him to wish more time for you to sleep. So he was going to give it to you, letting you rest in his arms and let the rest of the world roll by as Rory was asleep not too far away.

He will let you rest, rest and dream.

The End.

Worried and Relieved Prompts

[boo-tycall]

So.....This is Love?(2)

Summary: (Y/n) had realized early on that the abuse he had endured through childhood had done more damage than just physical. His inability to properly express his emotions. Lacking proper social skills. On top of that, unable to maintain his friends. And for about three years in the Demon Slayer Corp, that's what he had known. And he assumed that's all he'd ever have.

Through it all though, one fire burned consistently. A leader who did nothing but care for him. And although his childhood had caused such damage, he knew that with Master Kyojuro's help....he’d begin his healing.

Genre: Romance || Angst || Action

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Male! Reader

Rating: Rated M

A/N: Be warned there will be spoilers from the anime.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of physical abuse, depression, self harm, attempted s*icide. Please read with caution.

'Inhale'

'Exhale'

'Inhale'

(Y/n) opened his eyes, before placing his hand on the ground.

'Exhale'

He thought, allowing his senses to focus instantly.

In a single moment, he could see it. Through every root, every weed, and every blade of grass for miles without end he could see as clear as day.  

"4 Demons, two miles east. I suggest we move." His teacher uttered plainly.

(Y/n) rolled his eyes, knowing his teacher would do that. He was always like that.

"Show-off." (Y/n) muttered under his breath, but he knew full well that his teacher could hear him. (Y/n) did not want to stick around too long. Just get the job done and leave.

This is all they did for the past 3 years. After passing the Selection exam, everything became even more rigorous. Combining missions and training becomes a daily thing for a tsuguko.

But becoming Giyuu's tsuguko was never in (Y/n)'s plan. No, it was all his.

Master Kyojuro, that is.

Soon after his time in the Butterfly Mansion, light on what exactly Rengoku had in mind for him slowly came about. Starting with the arrival of the Water Hashira.

"So....You're (Y/ln) (Y/n)? You're smaller than i had first assumed."

He could remember those words like they were flatly delivered yesterday. But no, it had been years since then. But everytime Master Giyuu would say something, that moment would always come back to (Y/n).

"If you're to surpass me, you'll need to be a little faster than that." Giyuu announced as they jumped between the branches and trees.

(Y/n) grit his teeth, speeding up to catch up. Master must still be upset with what he had told him earlier.

"Master, i am sorry but i cannot continue under your tutorage. I wish to continue as a Demon Slayer, but i would like to have time to hone my skills independently." (Y/n) explained, kneeling in front of Giyuu.

"Is that so?" He asked, turning with a flail of his Haori, a stoic expression across his face. As usual.

"Tell me, (Y/n), do you think I've taught you everything?" Giyuu asked sternly, narrowing his eyes.

"Uh..."

"No. I haven't. Because you are not ready. You can barely withstand up to the 9th form. There is so much you have yet to do and you want to waste it?" He explained, restraining any feeling of frustration. Instead, he released a warm breathe as he relaxed.

(Y/n) kept his head down as he listened.

Master was right.

Giyuu sighed, "If i fall in battle tomorrow, i need you to be ready. Humanity needs you to be ready, and you won't be if you slack off. Even for a year, a month or a single day. Hell, not even an hour can be wasted." Giyuu stated flatly, turning away.

"Have i made myself clear?" He concluded sternly.

"Yes Sir." (Y/n) replied softly before standing, hiding the shake in his fists behind him.

If ever he is to take his place one day, he needed to be ready. He needed to at least know all 10 forms. Not that he didn't study and train everyday like crazy but....with the style of training Giyuu has put him through, much of it reminded him of someone else who used to drive him into the dirt.

Someone he thought he would never have to encounter again. But (Y/n) knew, deep in his hardened heart, that even Master Giyuu could never hold a candle to his cruelty.

As his mind drifted, (Y/n) found himself pausing at the sensation of something moving below them. Giving Giyuu the chance to move forward without realizing his student's disappearance.

(Y/n) looked down, and sure enough, a small child was under his tree. Crying.

But something didn't feel right. Something about the way she was shaking the tree as she shook from her sobs. It made him feel uneasy. (Y/n) couldn't only sense it but also smell it.

That was no child.

With a soft tap, (Y/n) stepped down into the dirt, causing the child to look up at him, her mouth covered in blood. But (Y/n) only gave her a cold gaze.

'Close your heart' (Y/n) thought.

"P-Please don't h-hurt me!" The child cried, causing (Y/n) to sigh. But from the way this child looked and smelled, even it had devoured a human or two.

"Then don't struggle and I'll make this quick." (Y/n) replied coldly before placing his hand on his swords hilt.

Just as a Demon does, the child changed instantly. Their sad, helpless expression twisting into a snarl.

But (Y/n) wasn't having any of it. Just as the child went to stand, (Y/n) simply released a breath.

"Water Breathing: First Form" (Y/n) muttered softly as he stepped out, and as the child lunged, (Y/n) drew his sword and slashed once, severing the child's head.

"Water Surface Slash"

(Y/n) whipped his blade, clearing it of the blood before sheathing it. It was over in only a few seconds.

'One down' (Y/n) thought before sensing another presence. From above.

"Fuck" He muttered as he glanced up into the trees, a stern looking Giyuu gazing down.

"Alright, Alright I'm coming" (Y/n) groaned, jumping up into the tree next to Giyuu. Giyuu gave him a nasty, passive aggressive side eye but said nothing before going on ahead.

'That was a demon and yet he's pissed. Can't keep the man happy for anything.' (Y/n) thought bitterly as he followed behind him in silence.

It would be at least another 20 minutes before they arrived to the edge of a large field, blades of grass flowing loosely from the nights gusts of wind. It was vast and severely exposed, with the only shelter being the large blades of grass, the moon being their only light.

And yet even in this tranquility, (Y/n) could smell the demons. But he couldn't see anything. This made (Y/n) smirk as he looked over at his master, opening his mouth to say something.

"No" Giyuu sternly stated, knowing full well what (Y/n) would say. He wanted to use his new technique.

"What?! But...M-Master this is exactly what my technique is used for!" (Y/n) exclaimed, his frustration clear in his voice.

But Giyuu only stepped out into the field without another word, leaving (Y/n) fuming.

Time and time again, Giyuu effectively would break (Y/n)'s self esteem. What little that he had at least. But at the same time, Giyuu knew from experience, that pain, suffering, hatred, that can drive a Demon Slayer from being simply a student to a Hashira.

But then again..... A fellow Hashira had offered him some advice when he first received (Y/n).

'Be gentle, he has suffered enough. The boy has had enough pain in him to last his whole lifetime. I do not mean be easy. But be....a teacher, not his worse enemy.'

"Why not focus on your basic skills? I have yet to see you use the tenth form in combat." Giyuu stated plainly. (Y/n) felt a small bead of sweat begin to form on his brow.

Ah...yes....the Tenth Form.

"N-Now?"

"No, tomorrow." Giyuu replied. Even though (Y/n) knew he was being sarcastic, he still couldn't help but narrow his eyes in confusion at the male.

"Yes, of course now. Why would I suggest it if i wanted you to do it some other time?" Giyuu asked, looking over his shoulder with a raised brow, completely unamused. (Y/n) could feel a vein pop out on his forehead as he drew his blade.

But he didn't say anything as he stepped out into the field, anger and frustration burning in his eyes. Any lower ranked Demon Slayer would find his actions reckless as he strode into the depths of the field.

But (Y/n) wasn't a mizunoto, kanoe, or anything of the sort.

He doesn't even need to try hard to feel the ground in front of him shift as two demons, like wild encroaching weeds, sprouted from the ground. Drool seeped from their teeth, their stench of death could have given them away even to a junior, well....above ground that is.

Four pairs of claws came straight for him, but (Y/n) only clenched his jaw tight.

"Water Breathing, 8th form:"

'Humanity needs you to be ready....'

Those words echoed in (Y/n)'s head as he released a breath, before he dodged both demons. The two blinked in confusion, losing sight of him. They both growled and looked at each other.

"Don't waste time, (Y/n). What are you doing?" Giyuu called out from the side, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched critically.

A soft tap was heard behind the two demons, alerting them of (Y/n)'s presence.

'Calm yourself' (Y/n) thought. He couldn't complete his technique if he was riled up. He needed to relax.

The two demons did not hesitate, turning and lunging at (Y/n). The male turned his blade toward them, but as his focus remained on them, he just misses the two hands coming from the earth gripping his ankles into the ground.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in shock, glancing down for a moment to see the hands.

He grit his teeth again, unable to contain his frustration. He inhaled before releasing a hot breathe.

"Water Breathing: 9th form - Splashing Water Flow"

Without another thought, he dragged his blade with all the force he could. He easily sliced the two demons, catching them both by the neck as he continued to swing. The blade moved like a raging tide with ease, but (Y/n) did not halt. He raised his blade once more and stabbed it into the earth between his legs.

A scream was heard as a female demon's face emerged from the dirt, her claws releasing (Y/n)'s ankles. (Y/n)'s blade only missing her face by a few inches.

"You brat!" The female cried out, her voice sounding similar to that of claws dragging on a chalk board. (Y/n) wasted no time as he jumped away, putting some distance between himself and the demon. She seemed different from the other two.

"Ew. You're uglier than i thought." (Y/n) commented flatly, making the female demon growl in anger before she lunged. But (Y/n) did not give her a chance as he sighed, "Water Breathing: 10th Form"

Again, in a flash the male was gone. But the female demon wasn't quite as inept as the other two. She dug into the ground, hiding once more. Clearly, the earth was her domain.

But, all demons are the same. Predictable. Only out to serve themselves. And even underground, no Demon was safe from him.

Taking a large leap, (Y/n) found himself at least 25 feet in the air. 'This should be enough' (Y/n) thought as he changed his bodies position, bringing his sword up and over his head.

"Constant Flux!!" (Y/n) cried out as he fell, slamming his blade into the earth, splitting the field in half perfectly.

Giyuu stood unfazed, even as dirt and once healthy grass was uprooted and thrown everywhere.

As the dust cleared, (Y/n) stood panting. He had created a large gap, in it was the female demon, her body crushed to mush. Still, (Y/n) knew just as well as Giyuu, that she was not dead. At least not yet.

Her body began to move, convulsing as she attempted to regenerate. But (Y/n) walked over to her.

"Y-You'll regret this! Grrrr, you disgusting brat! So many young lives i could have eaten, so many I'll be missing out on! Because of you shitty little-"

"You're the disgusting beast here." (Y/n) replied coldly as he cast his gaze on the demon, startling it. But a new shadow seemed to loom over his eyes - Anger.

"So shut the hell up and die already." (Y/n) calmly stated before bringing his blade down once more, stabbing it between the demons eyes.

She screamed as her head disintegrated into dust, finally ending her.

(Y/n) could feel his chest tightening, making it difficult to catch his breathe. That last move took a lot out of him, yet he still couldn't execute it properly.

"I don't think you need me to tell you what you could have done better." Giyuu commented, having moved instantly from the sidelines to (Y/n)'s side. His crow was obediently perched on his shoulder.

The boy pulled his sword out from the ground where the demon's body was and silently sheathed it.

The fatigue washed over him ten-fold as he released a soft sigh, causing him to stumble back a bit. Giyuu raised an arm, catching the male.

(Y/n) stood up quickly, wiping his brow with his sleeve before fixing his uniform awkwardly. "Ah Yes, I know. M-My apologies Master Tomioka." (Y/n) quickly spout.

Giyuu sighed before turning around, "Come on, let's go." He replied simply, walking in the direction they came. (Y/n) stood still for a moment, unsure of how to feel.

Well....at least he was still standing. If he can stand...

'If you can stand, you can walk!'

An angry voice boomed in the back of his head, making him move from his spot, keeping close to Master Giyuu.

Before he gets too close, Giyuu whispers something to the crow before releasing it.

"A new mission?" (Y/n) asked, moving to walk directly next to his master. Even if it did ache. But all he needed to do was regulate his breathing and relax his muscles and he'd recover.

"No. We need to pay someone a visit." Giyuu replied simply.

"Another Master?" (Y/n) continued, but Giyuu gave him a glance that simply said 'enough'. Something (Y/n) had learned to pick up on over the years. Master Giyuu had always been mysterious, which helped reenforce (Y/n)'s own silent and stern exterior, even if it still was a work in progress.

They quietly continued their trek, an undisclosed location being their end goal.

It wouldn't be until the next day that they would arrive to their destination around night fall. (Y/n) had to admit, he was more than a bit fatigued.

Still, he did not show it. It was not his place to show weakness. Especially not on a mission and especially not in front of his Master.

As they walked through the quiet Village, (Y/n) could not help but look around. It was very nice, whoever they were visiting must be of wealth or high status. It wasn't uncommon for Demon Slayers to be rented by the wealthy to look after their estate should they see it necessary. Still....it would be out of place to hire a Hashira and Tsuguko together. Especially in a place where he sensed no demons.

Giyuu stopped at an entrance, the wooden doors shut, but Giyuu simply knocked three times and waited.

"Who....are we here to see?" (Y/n) asked, looking all over the gate for some sort of family inscription. But there was none.

Before Giyuu could answer, the wooden gate slowly opened, revealing a small boy with bright gold and red eyes, his hair blonde with fiery red tips. (Y/n) could feel his breathe catch in his throat as his eyes widened slightly. Still, he did not say anything.

Where....has he seen this boy?

"Good Evening Senjuro, is your brother home?" Giyuu asked softly, far more gently than (Y/n) had ever heard him speak.

The boy gave him a small smile, shaking his head. "No, but he will be soon. I've received news from his crow already. Come inside Master Tomioka and...." The boy finally spared his gaze to (Y/n) who bowed politely.

"(Y/ln) (Y/n). Pleased to make your acquaintance young Senjuro." (Y/n) politely replied, earning a brighter grin from the boy.

"I am so happy to finally meet you. I'm sure my brother will be just, if not, more elated to see you." The boy replied, opening the gate further to allow the two males in.

'His brother?' (Y/n) thought. As he walked in and looked around, he immediately was taken aback by the beautiful garden, fire Lillie's everywhere, and a lovely mansion home. Who...on earth....

'I-It....can't be.'

(Y/n) felt a cold sweat begin to run down his face as pieces started to fall into place. The fact that Master Giyuu hadn't told him where they were going, This boy's familiar appearance....

"M-Master Tomioka?" (Y/n) spoke as calmly as he could but still could not contain a stutter as he gently poked Giyuu's shoulder.

"Yes?" He replied.

"This....This wouldn't happen to be Master Rengoku's estate, is it?" (Y/n) asked. Although his voice remained still, the panic was clear in his eyes.

"Yes, it is." Senjuro chirped from behind him, making (Y/n) jump. But the boy only giggled, "My apologies! I did not mean to frighten you!"

(Y/n) shook his head, giving the boy a small, yet embarrassed smile. "N-No, No, do not apologize. Heh...I-I'm a nervous person by nature."

Senjuro walked ahead of them, still smiling apologetically as he lead them into what looked to be a tea room.

"My brother lives here, but he rarely stays home ever since he's become a Hashira." Senjuro explained.

"I-I see.....It must be hard for you to have your brother be away so often." (Y/n) replied softly, earning a shocked gaze from the boy. It melted away quickly as he chuckled sadly.

"Yes. It is. But i know that my brother is doing what he loves and he is protecting people. So long as he is happy, i am too." The boy replied as he pulled back a door.

"Please excuse me, i will return with tea and dinner." Senjuro bowed politely before sliding the door shut, leaving (Y/n) with Giyuu in silence.

"You....are so mean." The words simply fell out without a second thought, but (Y/n) knew it wasn't that big of a deal. Because the conversation was always worth the oxygen when it meant he'd get small but sharp shots to the males own self-esteem.

"I am not." Giyuu replied, crossing his arms as he sat on a pillow near the table.

"You didn't warn me that we were coming to see him? I haven't seen him since.....since back then. Why is it that he has called for us to come now?" (Y/n) explained, his brows knitting tightly together from the stress.

"I'm not sure. He has asked me before to let you come visit, but i just haven't felt like bringing you." Giyuu replied flatly.

"WHAT!?" (Y/n) barked, shocked at this sudden confession.

Giyuu raised a brow in confusion. "Do not yell, it's improper." Giyuu warned, making (Y/n) put both hands over his face, covering the expression of pure rage.

Instead, as if a dry towel to white board, his hands drug down his face as he wiped as much of that expression away as he could.

There was no use arguing with him, he'd just give vague answers. Besides, as his student, he must assume he had some reason. So instead, (Y/n) balled his fists as he finally plopped down on the pillow next to Giyuu.

As he did, Senjuro tapped gently on the door to announce himself before stepping in carrying a tray with cups, a pot of freshly brewed tea, and some pieces of mochi and rice buns.

"I hope hibiscus tea isn't too bad?" Senjuro asked, earning a smile from (Y/n). This boy really, REALLY looked a lot like his brother. It was so shocking to see the exact same face only with the personality and volume turned down a couple notches.

"I've never had it before, Thank you very much." (Y/n) replied. Senjuro placed porcelain cups down and quietly poured the glasses of tea before sliding them to the two males.

Once again, Senjuro slid past the door, running to attend to a few other things.

The silence was suffocating, (Y/n) mentally noted as he reached out and grabbed a pink mochi. He took a whiff of it before biting into it. Inside was sakura cream with sweet potato paste.

"Woah...." (Y/n) audibly commented, blinking in shock from the amount of sweet within the treat. He reached out for his tea, gently blowing on it before sipping. The semi-sweet and bitter taste of the hibiscus definitely helped tone down the sweetness just subtly.

"Can i try?" Giyuu asked no one in particular. (Y/n) was the only one in the room so, he answered.

"Of course Master. Try this one." (Y/n) replied, grabbing another mochi the same colour as his.

Giyuu took it in his hand before doing as (Y/n), taking a whiff before biting into it. Immediately his face scrunched up, making (Y/n) furrow his brows at him in confusion.

"No way you don't like it." (Y/n) commented, making Giyuu hand him the mochi.

"It's....far sweeter than i had imagined." Giyuu replied. But (Y/n) only narrowed his eyes in disapproval at the male before eating his own mochi bun.

"Poor Senjuro must have put so much work into making these..." (Y/n) muttered between chewing before taking a sip of his tea once more.

"He is very talented at cooking, so it's only natural that he work hard at it!" A familiar voice boomed from behind the door, causing (Y/n) to spit out his tea in shock.

As if to add insult to injury, it actually managed to reach the wall splattering red liquid onto the beautiful paper.

The door flew open revealing a beaming Rengoku. (Y/n) quickly wiped his face with his sleeve before bowing, head to the ground and hands politely folded in front of him.

"You don't need to yell Rengoku, we are within ear shot." Giyuu replied simply as he reached out to grab his own tea, sipping it without a second thought.

"My apologies for startli-"

Rengoku began to speak but his gaze fell on (Y/n) who quietly remained in his position. "Uh....You do not need to do that, my friend." Rengoku explained, stepping into the room and kneeling in front of the male.

But, he was quick to notice the boys shaking and shivering.

"Are you alright?" Rengoku asked with concern, placing a hand on the boys head. The male finally looked up, tears filling his eyes.

Rengoku's eyes widened, shock clear in those gold and red orbs.

"M-Master Rengoku...i-it's....it's good...." The boy could hardly form words, his emotions too overwhelming to contain.

Elation, despair, amazement, admiration, and frustration all blending together at once and even those words were not enough to describe his feelings. Combined with his exhaustion and the frustration he had been feeling, it all became too much at the sight of his friend. Rengoku didn't hesitate to bring the boy into his embrace, smiling kindly.

"It is good to see you as well, (Y/n)." Rengoku replied, chuckling as he spared a glance at Giyuu. Even the master was moved, his expression more sad than usual. Glancing away as Rengoku cast his gaze on him.

(Y/n) hid his face in the males shoulder, biting back more sobs but Rengoku's embrace only tightened. "I am most pleased to see you doing so well. You have become much stronger since i last saw you. I could not be prouder!" Rengoku boomed, causing (Y/n)'s eyes to widen in his own shock.

'Of what? You're not even strong enough to hold the tenth form for long. You're crying like a helpless baby in front of a powerful Hashira. He should be ashamed.'

A voice boomed angrily in the back of (Y/n)'s head, threatening to cause more tears. The boy finally brought his arms up, gripping tightly on Rengoku's uniform.

'but he is'

Another, softer, warmer voice called from his head, making him finally crack a smile. Rengoku gently pulled the boy away, that warm gaze and gentle smile all directed towards him. It was enough to make his heart skip, if he could say that.

"And i am happy to welcome you to my home. I have wanted to bring you for some time. Though, i can understand that you and Master Tomioka have been diligently dedicated to your training. As i have been myself." Rengoku used his thumb, as he had done a few years ago, and carefully pushed (Y/n)'s tears out from under his eyes.

"Cease your tears, you should feel happy and safe here. I did not invite you to cause you more despair." Rengoku chirped happily which infectiously caused (Y/n)'s small smile to grow, his sobs now ceasing.

"Well....i hope that worked up your appetite."

Giyuu finally commented sarcastically, earning a laugh from (Y/n). Master Giyuu hadn't ever seen him so emotional, so his reaction being so nonchalant didn't surprise (Y/n) at all.

It was his own way of showing that he too was affected by the change in mood. But Rengoku's cheer was like fire to kindling, lighting the room once again with his smile.

"I am certainly starving! And my brother has made us my favorite, so please, stay for dinner?" He pointedly asked, gazing down at the male. But (Y/n) did not reply, instead he turned his own gaze to his Master.

"I believe you have invited us for more than just dinner, yes?" Giyuu replied simply, taking a light sip of his tea.

"Ah yes! I have business to discuss with you both, but first....let us settle down. I'm sure you are both tired from your journey here." Rengoku replied cheerfully as he pat (Y/n)'s head, ruffling his hair thoroughly.

"We are, Master Rengoku. We appreciate your hospitality, truly." (Y/n) finally croaked. Rengoku chuckled softly as he scooted to the other side of the table.

"My home is always welcome to you (Y/n). You are my friend after all."

At that moment, a gentle knock was made at the sliding door before revealing Senjuro, a tray with steaming bowls of food in his hands.

"Ah....I-I hope i am not interrupting-"

"You aren't Senjuro, you're right on time." Rengoku replied, his brother nodding as he stepped into the room and began to place the food on the table.

"i see...you didn't eat the sweets. Too much sakura cream or perhaps the mochi was not quite soft enough?" Senjuro asked with a smile.

(Y/n) momentarily gasped before snatching one mochi and shoving it in his mouth before grabbing another, looking over at Giyuu with a gleam that intimidated even him. As if saying, 'Eat it or die.'

The male grabbed a mochi as well, quietly eating it. Holding back any sign that he was disgusted by the sweetness.

(Y/n) finally beamed, "They are delicious Senjuro, thank you very much."

Senjuro blushed in embarrassment, "Y-You do not need to force yourself...You still have dinner after all."

Now it was (Y/n)'s time to feel embarrassed. "ah..." He chuckled softly as he looked at the dinner.

Rengoku chuckled lowly, adoring the way the boy had developed. Full of personality and life even after all he had been through. It truly filled his heart with pride.

"G-Good idea. Dessert for after." (Y/n) replied cheerfully, his mood now much brighter than before.

He had even made Senjuro laugh.

Giyuu silently placed his mochi, now having been bitten once, back on the tray with a sigh of relief.

"Good, well then i hope everyone enjoys. I will be dining with my father, if you will excuse me." Senjuro explained, giving a polite bow, but not before having his brother ruffle up his hair playfully.

"Enjoy your dinner Senjuro, we shall catch up later." Rengoku replied cheerfully, making his brother grin as well.

"Okay!" He exclaimed happily before leaving.

It seemed like everything he did, every glance he'd spare and every smile he'd give was infectious with joy and happiness. It was admirable, (Y/n) noted.

'I wish I was like that...'

He thought silently, but the smile on his face showed clearly how he felt. In all the excitement, hardly anyone had noticed the now dripping tea from the wall to the floor.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Day 15: Faith, Kili Durin

Song link I altered the song lyrics slightly, so it makes sense for the reader's pronouns!

Fanfic, she/they pronouns for reader

Fluff, mutual pining, everyone lives! AU

Word count: 2982

Tw: The story does not really go with the song, but I promise you, it's cute. Kili cries, Kili is insecure, Kili is feeling anxious. This is just Kili suffering, but it’s adorable, trust me. Everyone lives! AU

Summary: Kili has never been scared of anything. Not until he met you. The minute he set his eyes on you, he knew you were his One. But he grew scared of rejection and never told you. But now, five months after reclaiming Erebor, he finally takes his shot. And it ends up in the cutest way possible.

"See the girl with the diamonds in her shoes? They walk around like they've got nothin' to lose."

"Fi. Fi!" Kili whispered, tugging on his brother's sleeve as his eyes seemed to land on a certain person. "They're here again!" The brown-haired prince exclaimed quietly.

Fili followed his brother's gaze, his eyes landing on you, who had been in deep conversation with one of the servants.

"That's great!" He encouraged. "Go talk to them!"

"And say what?" Kili asked, letting go of his brother, yet his eyes did not once wander from your form. "What will we talk about?"

"About how you have wanted to marry her the day you met." Fili mocked, fluttering his lashes with a fake smile.

It had been true. You had traveled with the company to Erebor and Kili had always felt that special pull towards you. Yet, as the mountain was reclaimed, you seemed to stray from him. He was about to take his chance the second the battle of the five armies was over, but he knew you were trying to avoid him all of the sudden, so he gave you time to figure it out.

But that was five months ago. And things between the two of you had gotten more awkward than ever. But still, you remained at Erebor, and Kili could not help but wonder why.

"Yeah, she's a go-getter, they're everybody's type. She's a queen of the city, but they don't believe the hype."

Kili had noticed the lingering looks of many who passed the halls and caught sight of you, and he had slowly begun to loose his hope and confidence, no longer knowing how to reach you. Nevertheless, he wanted that single moment with you. Before someone would run off with you. He had to give you a piece of his mind. But it was more difficult than he had hoped.

"You're dreaming again." Fili noted, pushing his brother jokingly, shaking his head.

"You should really walk up to them. You two haven't had a proper conversation for a couple weeks now. What changed?" The blond wondered.

"I don't know, but I miss her." Kili confessed, unconsiously toying with the ropes on his attire.

"Stop that." Fili scolded, hitting his hands.

"What if they hate me?" The younger Durin asked anxiously, already not liking his options.

"Of course they don't, you absolute fool." Fili laughed, but when his brother refused to join, he halted. He scanned Kili's face, seeing flashed of doubt and uncertainty cross his features. He nearly felt bad for the poor dwarf.

"Maybe you can write her a letter, if talking is what scares you. Ask her to meet up when you gathered the words." Fili advised, to which his brother's face lit up.

"I will!" Kili nodded enthousiastically.

"Thank you."

"She's got her own elevation, holy motivation. So I wrote some letters out in big bold type."

The idea had been great, but the execution not so. Hours had gone by since Kili had sat down on the chair in front of his desk and a letter had yet to touch the paper.

He had no idea what to say. The two of you had been so close the entire journey; what happened? Surely, you could not hate him, for you were still inside the mountain, but you had not made any effort to speak to him. And he lost his courage because of it.

He remembered the laughs you shared, the stories you told, the songs you sang, but it had disappeared before he could even realize it.

And that's when it came to him; the words he had been looking for this entire time.

"I got faith in you, baby. I got faith in you now. And you've been such a, such a good friend to me. Know that I love you somehow."

He had it all planned out, he would subtly pass you room and drop the paper, tying a tiny pebble to it for the weight, to make sure it would not fly off into the air. Not that there had been much wind inside the mountain, but you could never be too sure.

Afterwards, he made sure to walk up to Fili, and tell him about his plan. In hindsight, it might have been a smarter idea to confront him before everything had been set in motion, but Kili was spontaneous and had no sense of consequences.

So upon figuring out he should have mentioned in the note where he wanted to meet, he grew panicked.

"I met you, hallelujah. I got faith."

"Well, at least you have her attention now." Fili tried to soothe.

"How could I have forgotten that?" Kili exclaimed fearfully.

"Does it matter? What did you write to her?" His older brother questioned, now curious for the words Kili had put down.

"Just the casual 'how are you' stuff?" The brown haired dwarf explained, but his tone was almost as if he had not been that sure anymore. "Just about the quest and about the mountain itself. I asked them why they decided to stay."

And with those words, Fili face palmed. "How exactly did you formulate that sentence? Where you ask her why she stayed?"

"Why are you still at Erebor?" Kili quoted, now uncomfortable with the way Fili grew worried at his revelations.

"Oh no." He mumbled, now realizing his mistake. "That sounds rude."

Fili nodded quickly, his face now as fearful as his brother's had been. "Grab that note before they find it!"

"I will!" Kili shouted, having already ran off in the direction of his letter.

"See the boy with the Stevie Wonder swag? Ain't got a clue all the magic that he has."

While you have no longer been in touch with Kili for a while, you tried to make an appearance every day. Since the mountain had been reclaimed, you assumed the throne grew more important, and that's the reason Kili had been distant. So you gave him his distance too.

But you missed the little talks you held during nights of the travels. You could feel his eyes on you every single day in the halls, but he had not yet made the move to talk to you. And you figured it had been because he was busy.

So you stayed. For him. Just in case he still wanted you with him. And you would not leave until he would ask you to. And the thought of it drove you insane. Even as it had been months since you spoke, he still had that grip over you; something that simply made you grow intoxicated with the young dwarven prince.

And you hated the feeling as much as you loved it.

"He's a go-getter, he's everybody's type. I'mma make it my mission, make him feel alright."

You could give him his space for as long as he wanted, but over time it began to hurt. The sweet hold he would have on you when he had been laughing too much had become a mere ghost. His soothing voice had yet to reach your ears while the sight of his eyes became one you would only ever see in your dreams.

And it infuriated you. Because every time you turned to look at him, he turned away. Almost as if he had been trying to ignore you. Even as you felt his stare throughout the day.

"He's a twelve on a ten point, rockin' out to his joint. Just say the word, 'cause I could sing all night."

But a shimmer of hope had still been there. Perhaps today would be the day he would come up to me again. That is what you had told yourself every day. And the worst part of it was, is that no matter how much he had kept to himself, if he would walk up to you and ask you to run away with him, you would. Without even an ounce of hesitation.

So, when you found that letter in front of your door, your heart skipped a beat. Because that had been Kili's handwriting. You had known it all too well. It had been so familiar. And it brought a light feeling to your stomach.

One you hadn't felt in five months.

"I got faith in you, baby. I got faith in you now. And you've been such a, such a good friend to me. Know that I love you somehow."

As Kili arrived at your door, the letter nowhere in sight, his heart dropped. He had only been gone for a few minutes. How could you have found his note so quickly?

Perhaps he should knock on the door. Maybe you hadn't even read it yet and he could still save himself. But what would he say? How would he get himself out of this one?

But it had appeared he did not need to do anything, for the door flew open in front of his eyes, with you standing in its opening.

And just like that, his breath got stuck in his throat, his eyes connecting with yours as a strange sense of relief flooded his senses, even though his anxiety was piling up.

"Hey." He choked out, connecting his hands with each other as he bounced on the back of his feet.

"Hi." You returned hesitantly, the letter in your hands. Kili spotted the parchment immediately, swallowing thickly. A thousand thoughts raced through his head once more. He could not read you face. Not as he once could. He did not know whether you were insulted, or perhaps relieved. Relieved as he momentarily felt upon seeing you again. Speaking to you again.

"I met you, hallelujah. I got faith, faith."

"Did you...um.." He trailed off, pointing towards the paper.

You shook out of your daze, following his eyes before nodding in assurance. "Yes, I did." You managed out. "You said you wanted to meet."

"But I did not say where." Kili filled in, though he bit his tongue upon realizing he had interrupted you, not meaning to sound as harsh as he did in the letter.

"Well," You announced quietly. "Here I am."

"I get around ya and my mind goes crazy. I think about you mornin', noon, night and day. I get around ya and my mind goes crazy. I think about you mornin', noon, night and day."

"Did you..." You asked, but stopped your sentence halfway. "Never mind." You tried to cover up.

"Oh, that." Kili spoke nervously. "I did not mean to sound rude about the whole...staying in the mountain thing. I was just wondering why you stuck around." He confessed, his heart beating quicker than it ever did. He had experienced fear before, but none felt as threatening as this one.

"Not that I mind." He threw in. "I think it's great you decided to stay. Here. In the mountain. With m- us. The company."

"I was not talking about that." You whispered, your face heating up at his question. Kili gave you a doubting look, every sentence that went into the letter suddenly forgotten by him. The gears in his head began to turn as he thought about what could have bothered you.

"Did you mean what you said in that letter?"

Now his train of thought stopped, coming up with only one answer. One which was spoken quickly; "Yes"

"I get around you and my mind goes crazy I think about you mornin', noon, night and day. I got faith in you, honey. I got faith in you, girl."

"You did?" You gaped.

"Y-yes. Though I do not know what you mean." The prince admitted. "But every word on there is true. You have my word."

You nodded at him, your eyes wandering towards anything but his eyes. Now that he was so close, you could not longer bring yourself to look at him anymore. And why, you did not know.

"The part where you spoke about Laketown." You whispered.

And that was the exact moment Kili could swear the walls were closing in on him. The Laketown part. He did not know he had written that down too. When he began writing, he just let his hands put down everything on his mind. He had no control of every word that was on that paper.

But the Laketown thing. That is one thing he did not expect for himself to write down.

"I met you, hallelujah."

During your stay at Laketown, he had been toying with the bead inside his pocket the entire time. One he crafted out of wood all the way back at Beorn's home. Especially for you.

During the Laketown events, his gravitation towards you became nigh unbearable. He had the uncontrollable urge to simply hold you close and run his fingers through your hair, loving you as no other ever would. It were things he had not even spoken about to his brother.

Kili had remembered crying himself to sleep that night, the thought of not being with you mentally hurting him, though he still did not make the intention to act on it. He could not bring himself to. He never held a fear of rejection. He always took his shot, not afraid of anything that would follow, but simply the idea of you not accepting his courting proposal would surely hunt him for the rest of his days.

So he hid. And he still did. And it affected him every day. Every day, until now.

"I got faith in you, baby. I got faith in you now. And you've been such a, such a good friend to me. Know that I love you somehow."

"You are my One." He choked out, no longer beating around the bush. "And I have known from the moment I set foot into that hole in the Shire."

"Kili..." You mumbled, stepping towards him as you grabbed his hands, which were peeling off pieces of his skin that he did not even seem to notice.

"And I never told you, because I feared you did not feel the same. We had such a great bond and I was scared of losing that." The young dwarf confessed.

"I understand." You soothed, rubbing the skin of his hands.

"But you don't. I have never been scared. Not the way I feared losing you. I never cared about what others thought and I thought it would only help me, but you scare me." Kili explained, a stray tear escaping his eyes.

"I don't want to be scared of you. How can one be scared of that what he loves most?"

"I met you, hallelujah. I got faith. Faith, faith, baby."

"You love me?" You managed to speak, his words catching you completely off guard.

"So much." Kili said as he let out a choked sob, another tear running over his cheek. "So much it just hurts. And I want it to stop hurting."

He now turned his hands in yours, squeezing them gently as he relished in the feeling. This is what he had missed; your hands in his, your voice reaching his ears, your eyes staring into his. He had missed it so much that he could not even begin to comprehend it.

"I want to help." You whispered, before opening your arms for him, bringing him into a hug. Kili rested his head against you shoulder, sobbing into it as you gently ran your fingers through his hair, trying to find some way to soothe him. Kili’s hands desperately held onto your back, holding you closer than he had ever done before, finally letting go of his worries. He was back in your arms, and that was all that mattered at the moment. The simple gesture of being there for him was enough to overwhelm him.

"Ssshh." You muttured into his ear as you began swaying from foot to foot, carrying him with you slightly as you felt his teardrops fall onto your shoulder.

"It's okay, Kili. I'm here to help you out." You assured, standing there with him, in an empty, yet now warm hallway.

"I got faith in you, baby. I got faith in you now. And you've been such a, such a good friend to me. Know that I love you somehow."

After a while, Kili finally lifted his head from your shoulder, staring into your eyes with his cheeks red, his eyes still glossy from his tears. Once more, you grabbed his hand, now intertwining it with yours.

"Do you still have that bead?" You asked softly, a lonely tear of your own now trailing from your eye too.

The dwarven prince wordlessly nodded, reaching his free hand into his pockets as he seemed to look for it. A short moment later, he returned with the wooden bead, which in the mean time had suffered its wounds, but it would still function as a normal hair accesoire.

"Are you sure you want to be with me?" Kili asked silently, his voice half broken, though his words rang true. "I can be a handful at times."

"I know." You laughed with a sob, wiping away your tear. "But I wouldn't want to be with anyone if it cannot be you." You admitted, gently taking the bead as you inspected it, your hands still not letting go of his.

"It's beautiful." You sighed, looking at the small carvings Kili had made in the tiny object. It nearly made you wonder how he ever got them there.

"Thank you." You spoke genuinely, before letting go of his hand.

"I met you, hallelujah. I met you, hallelujah.

"Will you braid it in for me?" You proposed, a hopeful grin appearing on your face. Kili sniffed, before frantically nodding.

"Will you please enter, then? I do not think braiding can be practised correctly while standing up." You offered, taking a step to the side as you gestured towards your room, silently inviting him in.

"It would be difficult." Kili answered with a thankful smile, following you into your room as his heart leapt with joy.

His heart beating irregularly had grown normal for him since he met you; whether it had been because of love, hope or fear. But now it was beating out of pure happiness, a feeling he had welcomed with open arms. One that he would not lose even as the world would start to collapse.

Not now that he had you at his side.

"I met you, hallelujah. I got faith."

—

Taglist: @deathofafangirl01 @fallenangeloflight @chaoticpaintsplatter @radbarbariancupcake @justnerdystuffs

[misslavenderlady]

The Boys Who Wouldn’t Grow Up - Chapter 14

Summary: While Max is getting to know Lucy a bit better, Marko is struggling immensely with helping his brother. Will both things work out in the end?

Please accept this low-quality gif I made on a random site. I did my best!

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: There's a hint that Max thinks David is considering self harm/s*icide, but neither of those things is actually present. Just wanted to include that as a precaution.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Max couldn't remember the last time he was so nervous about something important like this. He was sitting at the table he reserved at the bistro, fingers tapping nervously against the tablecloth. He had been clutching a bouquet of flowers but ultimately decided to set them down since his hands were shaking too much.    This was a big deal for him. He was going on his first date in so many years and with a successful, charming woman like Lucy. He just wanted to impress her and not spoil things before they could even begin.    When she did arrive, he felt his heart beat harder and faster in his chest. She was absolutely gorgeous. A long, black, shimmery dress with matching heels and a dainty necklace with a teardrop-shaped ruby in the pendant. Suddenly, he felt rather insecure in his tan jacket and plain blue tie.    Lucy didn't seem to mind though, as she lit up with a stunning smile as she walked up to the table. Her arms stretched out for a hug and Max took it.    "It's good to see you, Lucy! You look fantastic," Max complimented her. Trying his best to be a proper gentleman, he opened her seat for her and pushed it forward when she sat down.    "So do you, Max! I adore your outfit. Not enough people dress up for special occasions these days!"   Once they were both seated, Max picked the bouquet back up, holding it out to his date.    "Oh! I got you these. Gardenias! I thought roses would be a bit too on the nose," he said. There was some lingering nervousness about the flowers he picked out, but judging by the sparkle in her eyes and the way she took in the fragrant scent of the flowers, she definitely loved them.    "They're so beautiful! I can't wait to find the perfect vase for them. Thank you, Max!"   After that, the nerves Max initially struggled with finally started to calm down. They chose a red wine to start off the night and after some delightful chatting they ordered steak for their dinners. Everything felt so perfect. The food was delicious, the atmosphere of the restaurant was romantic and Lucy was charming him more and more as their conversation went on. It seemed as if things were really falling into place.    "So your sons, how old are they?" Lucy asked halfway through their meal. It was only then that Max realized he hadn't even told her their names.    "David is eighteen and Marko is seventeen. They're both adopted and they're only a few months apart in age. They've always been in the same grade at school," Max told her.   

They really were growing up too fast. Still, he did his best with trying to work out plans for college or entering a career when they graduated, even if it did hurt knowing he'd be an empty nester as a result.   Lucy smiled gently, reaching out to hold Max's hand. He could really get used to that.    "They're adopted? That's very kind of you to do. There are so many children out in the world, and they all deserve a loving family," she said.    "I always wanted a family. My boys are my whole world. I'd put my life on the line for them," Max explained. He had been smiling before, but now his smile was beginning to fade. He was reminded of how sour things were with his eldest child right now.    "But…David and I haven't seen eye to eye lately. We had a…disagreement, and he said something I know he didn't mean. Still, it hurt…really bad. I can tell he's battling some inner demons, but….I'm so clueless about this stuff. I honestly want to help but I…don't know what to do"    Max knew what he was getting into when entering parenthood. It was a lot of work teaching valuable lessons to children while fighting to protect them from scary things in the world. But it was all so complicated now. The thing David needed protection from was himself. How do you help someone who's going through that?   It wasn't until Lucy gave his hand a comforting squeeze that he finally snapped out of his train of thought. Her smile was gentle and kind, as if she completely understood his feelings.    "It sounds like he's going through a lot, the poor thing. Does he have any friends he can talk to?"   "Well, he did have a couple back home, but he hasn't been in touch with them since we got here," Max admitted, feeling rather guilty for taking his boys so far from home. "He goes out late with some local kids, but I don't even know anything about them. I don't want him getting involved with any bad influences…"   "Well, I'm sure if he likes them enough to spend a lot of time with them, then perhaps they help him feel better. That they're a good influence. You just have to trust that he's a smart boy who knows what he's doing," Lucy said assuringly.    Her chair was closer to him now. Both of her hands were wrapped around his own with her thumb lightly massaging his knuckles. Max felt butterflies in his stomach as she looked closely into his eyes. She really was beautiful, and it was making him a bit nervous.    "You know, Max," Lucy started, bringing one hand up to gently hold his chin. "It's possible your boys would benefit from having a…mother figure in the picture"   Max was blushing now. Whether it was from her being close enough to possibly kiss him or implying she could be a bigger part of his life, he wasn't sure. Before he could even think of a response, another voice spoke up.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Johnson?"

  Lucy moved away in a flash, clearly just as sheepish as Max currently was for being caught in a rather intimate moment by their waiter.   "There's a call for you up at our host stand. From a boy named Marko. He says it's important"   The fluttery feeling Max had before was now a churning, fearful sensation. He told Marko before leaving to call just for emergencies. What was happening that warranted a call?   "Yes, that's my son. I'll be right there," Max said before turning back to Lucy. "I'm terribly sorry. Do you mind if I take that?"   She gave an understanding smile and gestured for him to go up to the stand.    "Not at all! Take your time!"

As Max stood up from the dining table and made his way up to the front of the bistro, only one thing was going through his mind: Please let my boys be okay.

 Marko was sweating bullets, waiting for his father to pick up the phone. He needed all the help he could get with handling this major problem with David. He twisted the phone cord in his fingers while the restaurant employee that had picked up tried to get hold of his father.   “Marko? You there, son?”   The moment he heard Max over the line, all the frantic thoughts in his head came spilling out of his mouth.   “Dad! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, but you need to come home right now! David’s really not himself right now and I can’t be alone to help him with this. Please, PLEASE don’t ground me. This is really important!”   “What’s wrong?! What happened? Is David hurt?” Max questioned a gravely concerned tone now in his voice.    Before Marko could answer him, a loud bang came from inside David’s room. Grateful for the extra long cable in the phone, the curly-haired boy was able to tuck the phone under his arm and run to David’s room. He stayed on the line with Max as he swiftly moved.    “Dad, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you over the phone. This is something you need to see for yourself,” Marko explained. He wrapped a hand around the doorknob but found it was still locked from when David ran in earlier. There was quite a bit of noise on the other end of the door.    Marko knew what he had to do. He silently apologized to his Grandma for the damage he was about to do to a part of her house.    A sharp kick went straight to the door, right below the lock. Thank God for 40 years of wear to the house and all those childhood karate lessons, because the door busted right open. 

“Marko? What on Earth was that noise?? Tell me what’s going on!” Max demanded.    The blond would have answered his dad right away, if not for David currently hanging onto the window frame in his bedroom and almost floating towards the outside. Terrified of his brother just flying away into the night, Marko dropped the phone, letting it fall to the ground with a hard clang!   “Hang on, David! I’ll help you!”   “NO! Get away, Marko!” David snapped, waving a hand to keep his brother back. He was trying to be stern, but the fear in his eyes was far too strong. “I can’t risk hurting you! Stay away from me!”  

Marko wasn’t taking that for an answer. Even if David kept swiping at him and yelling at him, there was no way he’d abandon his brother right now. Scared but very determined, he held out a hand, desperate for David to take it.   “I am NOT leaving you! David, I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. I know we can get through this,” he assured his older brother. “You’ve been going through all these awful things for so long now, and you need to know you’re not alone! You’re my best friend and I care about you! If I didn’t I wouldn’t be trying to help you now that you’re this way! Can’t you see that?”    David’s head was spinning. Everything was happening so fast. Getting these powers, endangering Marko, his life being at risk now as he held onto the window. It had been scary with the problems he faced before all of this mess, but now he was terrified. Panic was building rapidly inside his head and he couldn’t focus.   But one thing he did know for sure was that Marko was genuinely trying to help. He recognized the fear in his little brother’s eyes as well. It was like they were little kids again, clinging to one another when they got scared.

  “David, even with all this, you’re still my brother. Please…let me help you”

  It wasn’t easy. None of this would be easy. Asking for help had been hard for him before, but now was not the time to push people away.    David gave in and took Marko’s hand, allowing his brother to pull him back inside to the safety of his own room. Marko used his other hand to grab the back of David’s jacket and further guide him in and protect him from flying back outside. Once David’s feet were planted firmly on the ground, Marko immediately shut the window, not allowing there to be another chance for his brother to float away.   “Holy hell, thank you…” the bleach-blond said with a relieved sigh. He felt like he could properly breathe again.    “You’re welcome. You’ve got me to lean on, so don’t worry. We’re gonna get through this, David,” Marko promised, still holding on.    “Just promise me you won’t tell Dad about this,” David pleaded. The last thing he needed was another reason for conflict with their father. Depression was one thing. Turning into an actual monster was another. He needed to start piecing things together and figure out how to get back to his normal self.    Marko perked up, suddenly remembering how he had so carelessly tossed the phone to the ground. He let go of David in order to pick up the receiver. The dial tone buzzed loudly in his ear.    “Uhh….yeah, that might be a problem…” Marko said, knowing good and well that Max was definitely speeding home after hearing there was an emergency before the phone was dropped. They were so fucked.   “Please, just don’t say anything about the v-word. I need to get out of here for a while,” the older boy pleaded. Before Marko could even begin to protest, David sprinted out of the room and down the staircase. He had to move fast and slip out the back door before their father came home.   They both were going to need all the luck they could get.

Max was disregarding every speed limit and traffic law without any care. Cars honked at him for swerving in and out of lanes. As he hurriedly drove down the roads of Santa Carla, he prayed to any higher power that could be listening to his fearful pleas.   Please, don’t take my son from me. I’ll do anything. Take me instead if you have to, but please let David be okay.   The boy had been struggling so much for so long now. Max had been blind to how truly serious this was, and even if he didn’t have a plan for helping his oldest son in this situation, all he wanted to do was be there for him. Keep him alive and safe. That’s all he asked for.   Lucy had been a saint with how understanding she was. When he heard Marko shout for David and then drop the call, Max went into full panic mode. He rushed back to the table to fill out a check that would cover the bill (and plenty more for a tip) and apologized to Lucy, briefly explaining the emergency. She must have seen the fear for his family in his eyes because she encouraged him to go home to check on Marko and David.   His car came to a screeching halt when he finally pulled into the driveway. His heart was pounding so fast that he was sure it would burst right out of his chest. The way his hands were shaking made it a little difficult to open the car door, but as soon as he was out, he ran like hell to get into the house.    “MARKO! I’m here! What happened??” Max called out, throwing his jacket and keys down without any care. When the curly-haired boy stepped into the room, Max immediately ran to bring him into a tight hug. One of them was safe. He hoped with all his heart that David was, too.   “H-Hey Dad!“ Marko greeted him, backing up a bit to actually breathe again. “Listen…David is totally fine! It’s just that…um…”   He was completely blanked out. There was no possible scenario that didn’t end with Max still worried like crazy.   “Markus William Johnson, my nerves have been shot ever since you call the restaurant. Please, tell me what’s going on with David!”    The blond tensed up at the sound of his full name. He hated to rat out his brother, but there was no way he could fix this without being honest with their father (at least as honest as he could be without sharing the details about David being an actual vampire now).   “He…kinda left and said he needed to figure stuff out…”   If Max didn’t look completely stressed out before, he certainly did now. He was certainly grateful David was okay, but now there was an entirely new issue at hand. As he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration, he ultimately decided to spare Marko any punishment for calling him home. Right now, they had bigger fish to fry.   “I’m going back out to find your brother,” Max announced, scooping up his keys and jacket off the floor again.   “Wait! David’s not in a good headspace right now! I don’t think it’s the right call, Dad!” Marko tried to reason with his father. He knew David had gotten a good head start, but he hoped he would be able to hide away from Max until daylight came again.   “I’m not going to change my mind about this! I can’t stay here while David’s out alone. I want you to stay right here in case he comes back home. Promise?”    It wasn’t easy keeping all the crucial details from their father, but at least Marko could tell his brother he tried his best if he got chewed out later. He sighed heavily, just as stressed about everything as Max was.   “I promise, Dad”

Max turned and left through the door he had entered, ready to seek out his son and bring him back safe and sound at home. While watching the car pull back out of the driveway, all Marko could do was silently hope David knew what he was doing. 

Hope y'all enjoy the Bill & Ted reference for Marko's full name lol