#if i had to change anything i would have cut the lined paper to where the margins were closer to the edge

[klavery]

i adore this post and wanted to make something cute in my scrapbook inspired by it

both handmade notepads only have 3 pages (as to not bulk up my scrapbook more than it already is). they are glued to the inside of scrapbook but the left side of the asexual notepad is not glued so the aromantic one can be flipped on top of it and opened. ill probably update when i actually write down some aro and ace things to do!

[eddiesghxst]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job. 

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day! 

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now. 

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.” 

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.” 

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with. 

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.” 

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap. 

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you. 

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.” 

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him. 

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.” 

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for. 

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks. 

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room. 

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods. 

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” 

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.” 

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?” 

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—” 

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?” 

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door. 

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has. 

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?” 

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee. 

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?” 

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat. 

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him. 

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.” 

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine. 

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into. 

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?” 

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes. 

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does. 

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock. 

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though. 

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.” 

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them. 

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows. 

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping. 

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right. 

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it. 

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head. 

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle. 

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

[nickynclark]

The Psychology of Love and Loathing

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Enemies to lovers! 

Word count: 7,584

Warnings: no use of y/n, reader goes by 'bunny', discussion of a case (nothing too far from usual Criminal Minds gore), reader has three PhD's (bet you didn't know that), briefly mentions readers mother committing su!cide, mentions of toxic parents, alcohol consumption, jealous! Reader, jealous! Reid, pet names (good girl, silly girl, baby, sweetheart, sweet thing), degradation, oral f! Receiving, like one line of oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v (pls wrap it before you tap it), no mention of reader being on birth control, anal play, overstimulation, after care. If i missed anything let me know!

Author’s note: i’m so sorry im ovulating. This is porn w a shit ton of plot. We’re talkin WORLD BUILDING

MDNI BELOW THE CUT

You blink at the papers in front of you, checking once, twice, double checking three times to make sure what you're seeing is correct. 

You were on a case in Texas, called in by local police after four bodies, two wealthy couples, were found shot execution-style and posed on different park benches throughout Amarillo. While at first, it seemed as though it was your average serial killer, the autopsy report showed that the gunshot wound was done post-mortem- all four victims were murdered by being forced to drink household bleach. 

You looked down at the papers one more time, noticing that one man, Adam Gilman, cleaned houses of the wealthy, and he purchased a lot of bleach. Way more than needed to clean a few bathrooms. 

You quickly dial Garcia, and she answers within the first ring. 

"Ask and you shall receive." 

"Garcia, what can you find out about Adam Gilman?"

You hear typing from the other end of the line before spewing information, "35-year-old white male, he grew up super rich until his dad pulled his college funding his senior year when his sister went to school to be a doctor. He started paying for her," She suddenly sucked in a breath, "It looks like he had to drop out. He was at Harvard Law. Spiraled downhill from there, sending you the files and address now." 

"Thanks, Garcia!" 

You rush into the room where the rest of the team is and run up to Hotch. 

"Look at this! He fits the profile to a t!" 

Hotch looks down at his tablet, and you feel eyes glance over to you, about to speak, but Spencer Reid bursts through the doors. 

"Guys our unsub is Adam Gilman! He lives five minutes from here, and his job is on the way." 

Hotch nods at you, acknowledging that you have the same information but Reid said it louder, "Let's go." 

Since you joined the Bureau last year, Spencer Reid has been competing with you. Whereas he was thirty-three with three PhDs, you were twenty-five with the same amount. Of course, he got his when he was much younger, but he still seemed to overcompensate. 

He was intimidated by you. 

This wasn't the first time a situation like this had happened. It's almost like he had a radar for when you made a big break, and he wanted to steal the spotlight. 

And not to mention he hates you for some reason. 

Ever since your first week in the BAU, Dr. Reid has acted indifferent to you. You understand that change can be uncomfortable, but you have done nothing to deserve this cold shoulder. 

On your first day, you strutted into the office dressed in a pair of black slacks, a black, v-neck blouse, and some hot pink pumps; being honest, you looked like you owned the place. 

When Aaron introduced you to the team, you shook everyone's hand except Reid's. 

"The number of pathogens passed through a handshake is staggering," he stated mater-of-factly while staring at your hand, "it's actually safer to kiss." 

You laugh and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, "Although I appreciate the concern, a handshake is actually a sign of peaceful intentions. Soldiers would cover their swords on their left side and shake their right hand to show they mean no harm," you shrug, "but I understand the mysophobia." 

He nodded at you, a glare suddenly hardening his features, "interesting." 

He has refused to hold conversation with you, maintain eye contact with you, or be in the same room with you for an extended amount of time ever since. 

He hates it the most when you're right. 

After arresting Adam, the team desperately needed to interrogate him. He was denying all claims despite all the evidence against him. In fact, all he has said has been denials. Besides that, he didn't speak. He hadn't asked for a lawyer, hadn't shown any recognition to the couples, and hadn't said anything besides I've never seen those people before.

"We need to make him uncomfortable," Morgan says, "he's running this whole show. We gotta flip the tide." 

Emily looks up from her Chinese takeout, laughing, "Let's throw Bun and Reid in there." 

Your eyes widen, and you are suddenly incredibly red. Your face is on fire, and you start looking around panicked. 

The team started referring to you as 'Bun' over the summer when you all went to a bar together. You accidentally had one too many drinks, and Derek said you were bouncing up and down the whole time. 

"She's like a Bunny." 

"Don't call me a Bunny!" You slur, "I'm mean. And vicious." 

Penelope laughs at you, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "Alright, Bun. Let's go dance!" 

Ever since that night, the nickname 'bun' stuck. 

Although Emily suggested you and Reid distracting Adam as a joke, Rossi's lips pull into a smile, "That just might work." 

Emily sets her food down, suddenly aware that she presented the first good idea so far, "we could dress them up some, make them look like a wealthy couple, and have them ask Adam some questions. It might make him mad enough to break." 

Aaron looks at you and you gulp subtly, then he looks to Reid, "It's up to you." 

You look at your feet, frowning, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get this guy in jail." 

Reid simply nods. 

"Okay," Aaron says, "we'll go get the stuff." 

You and Spencer remain in the small room while the others rush out to get the things you require for your transformation. 

"Hi." Your voice comes out quiet. 

"Hello." He responds blandly. 

You suddenly realize this is the first time you and Reid have been in a room alone together, so you take the opportunity. 

"What have I done to you?" 

Reid's eyebrows shoot up at the confrontation "Huh?" 

You roll your eyes, "ever since my first day you've avoided me. What did I do?" 

He scoffs, "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"Sure you don't." You sigh and run a hand through your hair, "I'm the only person on the team you practically refuse to talk to." 

"I'm talking to you right now," he says as if that's a counterargument, "I talk to you all the time." 

"Yeah, when you're forced to!" You say exasperatedly, "You know everyone on the team's birthdays, all except mine. You know their family situation because you've asked." 

He shrugs, "I know plenty about you."

"How old am I?" 

He looks into your eyes calmly, "You're twenty-eight." 

"I'm twenty-five." 

Emily suddenly bursts into the room, "There isn't anything for you guys in lost and found. You have to go on a shopping trip. Strauss said a 300 dollar limit." 

You nod, "I assume that's just for clothes?" 

"Yes," She answers, "Reid is going to wear Rossi's watch and a wedding band JJ's going to pick up. Both of you will wear a ring." She then looks to you, "We have a lot of jewelry for you to pick through." 

You nod, standing and Reid rises next to you. 

Emily tosses you some keys, "be back in an hour." 

***

The ride to the mall was quiet. You didn't bother talking to Spencer as you drove, and he didn't bother speaking to you. 

He also kept turning down the radio when you tried to turn it up. It was painfully awkward. 

Once at the mall, you and Reid split up incredibly fast. 

He ran to some men's warehouse, and you rushed to the women's section of a department store. 

You quickly pick up a pair of black pinstriped slacks that hug your curves and a tight, white blouse. You finally grab a black, pinstriped blazer, and you head to check out. 

On your way, though, a pair of stunning, emerald heels grabs your attention. 

You walk closer to study them, and god do they look lavish. 

If you weren't here for work, you would grab them in a heartbeat, but you were, and you had already met your price cap. 

"Buy them." 

You hear Spencer's voice from behind you, and you jump, grabbing your chest in fright.

"What?" 

"Get them," he shrugs, "it's obvious you want to." 

You laugh shyly, and he stuffs his hands into his jean pockets, his bag of clothes hanging around his wrist. 

"I've already met my limit." 

"Okay?"

You frown, studying him. He looks calm and relaxed. You tilt your head slightly, and he matches your movement. 

No, that can't be right. 

You cross your arms in a silent stare down, and he does, too. 

"You're mimicking me." 

He scoffs, "God, Bun, not everything I do is to spite you!" 

Your eyes widen and you suddenly point at him, "You!"

"What?" 

"You just called me Bun!" 

His eyes barely widen, but he catches himself, staring straight ahead. 

His foot stops tapping, "you're hearing things." 

"And that's your tell!" You point at his foot, "You just mimicked me, called me 'Bun', and then lied about it!" 

He rolls his eyes, "what size are you?" 

"You're avoiding the question!" 

"You didn't ask a question." He gestures to the heels, "What size?" 

"Why?" 

"Answer the question, Bunny." 

His tone is stern, and you freeze under his stare. 

"Nine." 

He nods and grabs a box in that size. 

"No!" You protest, "Don't!"

"I still had a hundred bucks left over, it's on the company's card." 

You blink twice, confused as to why he's being so nice to you. 

"Okay. I need to pay and I'm done." 

He nods to you, and you both check out. He hands you the heels and you let out a quiet thanks while headed to the car.

***

When you got back to the station, the turnaround was dizzying. 

You were shoved into a room to change, as was Reid. 

After you changed, JJ came in and whistled. 

"Sheesh, Bun, you look good!" 

You laugh and straighten out your jacket, slipping on the heels Spencer bought you today. 

"Are those new?"

You nod, "yeah, Spencer said he had some left in his budget." 

She shook her head, "Reid must've bought those with his own money." 

Your eyes widen, and she laughs, "C'mon, Bun. You need to look at jewelry." 

You picked out a pair of dainty, diamond earrings, a matching necklace, and several expensive bracelets that had to be physically screwed onto your wrists. 

Once standing in front of Hotch, Emily gave you the wedding bands JJ had picked up. 

Yours was a gorgeous gold band with an emerald-cut diamond on top. It was simple, but, God, was it stunning. 

You slipped it onto your finger and Reid slipped the simple golden band over his, his hands looking all that much better with the ring on it. It makes your mouth water just thinking about his fingers.

You quickly shake your head. No. You hate Spencer Reid. Nothing will change that. 

Hotch gives you and Reid strict instructions on how to talk to Adam, and then he's sending you in. 

"Sell it," Aaron says, "this might be our only shot." 

You give him a curt nod, linking your arm with Reid and smiling as you walk into the interrogation room. 

Spencer looks down at you with a look of passion you've never seen before. One that you aren't convinced could be fake. 

As soon as you looked at Adam, you could tell there was something off. He was picking at the skin around his nails and chewing on the skin of his lips where they looked raw and painful. 

As you sat down in front of him, Spencer was the first to speak. 

"Who is this guy again, babe?" 

You held back the shock in your face at the pet name as he put a hand on your thigh. You made a point to twist the wedding ring on your finger before opening the files in front of you. 

"Adam?" You look up at the man in front of you, "are you Adam?" He nods, and you hum, "Who are you, exactly?" 

Reid smiles and looks to you, "Play nice." He slides the files over to him, "Harvard law, that's impressive. Did you apply or did your father buy your way in?"

Adam's eyes narrowed, "I applied and got accepted. I was a prodigy." 

You smile subtly, knowing you and Reid have already gotten him to show more of himself than he had to anyone else. 

You look at your fake husband and laugh, "I don't think you can decide that you're a prodigy." You look Adam up and down, "my husband, here," you place your hand on Spencer's shoulder, looking at him as if he hung the moon and stars, "he is a prodigy. How old were you when you got your first PhD?"

"Seventeen," he laughed humbly, looking at you, "you flatter me." 

You smile softly as Reid squeezes your thigh, something Adam could not see and, therefore, was unnecessary. You look at Spencer, but he refuses to meet your eyes. 

You turn back to Adam, pulling out the photos of the four bodies and showing them to him, "have you met these people before?" 

He shakes his head, "I've never seen those people before." 

"Really?" You ask calmly, "You've never, ever, seen Andrea Haskins?" 

Adam shakes his head. 

"Never, not once, seen her husband, Kent Haskins, either?" 

He shakes his head again. 

Reid sits up straighter, linking his hands together on the table in front of him, "you received a pretty generous amount of money from him every month since... August?" 

You mentally thank Garcia for that information, and mentally thank Reid for remembering it. 

Adam sits up straight, too, but falling shorter than Reid, "I clean their house for them, don't mean I've ever met 'em." 

You hum, "I wouldn't let a stranger into our home, would you?" 

Reid shakes his head, and Adam gets visibly upset at your interactions. His hands clench to the table ledge, knees bouncing, eyes narrowed. 

"Say, Adam," you perk up, "how much bleach do you use per house you clean, about?" 

Adam's eyes trained on me, "you're a smart girl," he then looked to Reid, "with an even smarter husband." He spits the words as if they are poison on his tongue, "You do the math." 

You stand, smiling softly, "So, not 10 gallons per week?" 

Adam shrugs, "If that's your calculation." 

You walk closer to the man, sitting on the table next to him and leaning down to him, "And I assume you also have never met the Coleman's?"

He shakes his head. 

"Never met anyone in the Coleman family?" 

"No. God, you people suck at your job."

"That's actually interesting considering we have video footage of your picking up Lacey Coleman from school last Monday. A family doesn't let a stranger house cleaner pick up their child from school." 

Adam's eyes widen, and you know you have him cornered. 

"How long had your sister been friends with the Colemans?" Reid interjects. 

"Don't you dare talk about her." 

"Why not?" Reid asks simply, "Does she bother you?" 

"I was going to be a Lawyer, I was going to be successful and make my dad proud of me. Until she ruined it all with her perfect schooling and perfect husband," Adam spits.

"Halley is a pretty successful neurosurgeon, huh? She gets all of daddy's special attention, doesn't she?" You say.

"Get your wife on a leash," Adam says to Reid. 

"All you wanted was to feel loved, to hear your dad say he's proud of you," you keep talking, "and you were going to kill him because he wouldn't say it." 

"Shut the hell up, bitch!" 

"You were getting ready to kill your mom and dad because, hey, why not go straight to the source? Why not kill who made you like this?" 

"What if your family pulled your funds for a sibling, huh?" He yells to you and Reid, "How would you feel?" 

The room goes silent and Reid allows you to keep talking, keep getting on his nerves. 

"His daddy left him when his mom got sick, and my mommy killed herself when I was seven. We worked for our degrees, and we worked even harder for the scholarships that paid for our three PhDs." You hiss, "I would've worked harder to get what I want instead of just expecting it." 

"You're a bitch," Adam spit in my face. 

"I could be worse. I could take away a little girl's family. I could kill four innocent people out of my frustration and failure." 

Reid finally stepped in, grabbing your hand softly and pulling you back to your side of the table. 

"I didn't kill those people." 

"That's not what your body is telling us, Adam." Reid states simply, "You are hurt and still are hurting, I understand that. But now so is Lacey. That's on you." 

Adam's lip quivers, "I didn't hurt Lacey! Lacey was at her friend's house!" 

Reid rises, grabs your hand gently, and walks to the door, and you follow.

"Hey!" Adam screams, "where are you going? Get back here!" 

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you let go of Reid's hand. He turns to you and watches your expression shift. 

"Good work, Bun." 

You nod, and he looks like he's about to say something else, mouth opening, but then Hotchner walks in. 

"Great work.” 

You smile at Aaron, and Reid stares at you with something dark behind his eyes. He looks nervous, and hungry, and concerned, and certain. 

"We'll be heading back in 30. Wrap up. Great job, Doctors." 

***

On the plane, you and Reid are still in your "Rich Couple" personas, not having enough time to change out. 

You sit near the back of the plane, headphones in, and reading Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience by William Blake. 

"Little Lamb who made thee, Dost though know who made thee?" 

You hear the words of "The Lamb" spoken, causing you to take out your headphones and look to the source: Spencer Reid. 

He sits across from you as you ask, "You read Blake?" 

"Blake to Poe to Plath, I don't mind." 

You narrow your eyes at him, "what do you want?"

"Really?" He asks, "We can't just have a nice moment?" 

You raise your eyebrows at him, "Not you and me. We don't have nice moments."

His facial features soften, and he sighs, "I'm sorry for acting so harsh toward you. You didn't deserve that." 

You're shocked by his statement, "Pardon me?"

He runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "I was scared, Bun. I was the smart one. I convinced myself that was all I could be," his breath hitches and his eyes connect with mine, "I thought if there was someone smarter, more sociable, and nicer than me, they wouldn't need me anymore." 

"Spence..." you start, and you realize it's the first time you've called him his nickname. 

He notices it, too, eyes shifting from one of concern to one of understanding, "You're incredibly smart. You're kind, and you're fun to be around. I'm sorry it took me so long to notice that."

You nodded, "thank you." 

He nods and goes to stand.

"Wait." You quickly speak up and he freezes, "What's... um..." you stutter, "what's your favorite Poe?" 

Reid smiles, sitting back down, "Annabel Lee." 

You smile, "Gold-Bug."

He laughs, "Really?" 

And you nod. 

**** 

"Let's go get drinks!" Garcia announces as you and the team wrap up your paperwork, and you laugh. 

"I don't think so," you smile, "not tonight." 

"C'mon, Bun," Garcia whines "It'll be fun!"

Reid suddenly looked at you, eyes darker, eyes that held you tight in a grip, "Yeah, c'mon, Bun." He says the name with a sensuality you had never heard before. It sent a shiver down your spine, "it'll be fun." 

You look at him, taking in a shaky breath, "I.. uh, don't have a ride." 

"I'll drive you," Reid says simply, and the rest of the team just stares at the interaction. 

Things have changed since the interrogation room, you know that, but did you want to be alone with him already? 

You look at him, his messy hair, his stubble, and chocolate brown eyes, and your pussy clenches around nothing. 

You find yourself nodding, mouth too dry to speak.

"Good," he smiles, "follow me."

Your team watches with uncertainty as you walk off with Spencer, and it's almost like they've seen the change, too. 

No, they're profilers. They know Reid had you wrapped around his finger while reciting Blake. 

They also knew Spencer had been pining after you since you wore those hot pink heels on the first day of work. But they didn't need to tell you that. 

Reid guides you to the elevator, and you comply silently. Once the door closes and it's just you two, you turn to Spencer.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" He responds simply.

You turn to face him, "why are you being so nice to me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Bun." 

You roll your eyes, "yeah right." 

The elevator doors open, and he walks you to his car, opening the door for you.

"Thank you," you smile cautiously, and he nods. 

He sits down in the driver's seat and pulls out of his parking spot. One of his hands rests on the wheel, the other placed on the gearshift. His eyes focus on the road, but they occasionally slide over to you. The silence- although comfortable- practically kills you.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" 

He glances over at you, and he smirks, "I want to." 

You look at him, "why?"

He shrugs, "spent too long not doing it." 

You nod and glance out the window, just as Spencer puts the car in park. 

As you step out of the car, you hear Derek and Emily from behind you, making a show of letting you know they are also here. 

You walked over to Morgan and hugged him.

"Hey, Bunny," he smiles and kisses your forehead, "first rounds on me tonight, sweetheart." 

You laugh, "thank god! Need a handsome man to buy me some drinks!"

Reid scoffs from behind you, but you shrug it off, assuming it was about something Emily had said. 

It wasn't. 

As you walk into the bar with Derek's arm around your shoulder, you quickly make your way to the table with Garcia and Rossi. 

"What are you drinking?" You ask Garcia, gesturing to her hot pink drink in front of her, garnished with cotton candy, strawberries on sticks, and a big, twisty straw.

Gracia's eyes widen, "oh my gosh! You've never been here before??" You shake your head, and she squeals with excitement, "Okay, so, it's called the Cotton Candy Chameleon. It's basically strawberry vodka and coconut rum with strawberry soda! Look!" She picks up the cotton candy and places it into the liquid, watching as it rapidly dissolves, "did you see that?!" 

"That's why it's called a Chameleon," Derek laughs, arm still around you, "want me to get you one?" 

You nod happily, "and a shot of Titos? I'll pay you back!" 

Morgan winks at you, "It's on me, Bun." 

As he walks toward the bar, you and Garcia continue to chat about anything and everything, her childhood cat, where you grew up, and how Garcia got put on the team. 

"You were so good at being bad," you laugh, swirling your third Cotton Candy Chameleon that Morgan brought over to you, "that the FBI gave you a job instead of jail time?" 

She nodded, giggling, "Pretty much. Are you going to take that shot?" She points to the round Rossi had bought for the table. 

You laugh, quickly picking it up and downing it, "god!" 

"Woah!" Morgan laughs, hands catching your hips to keep you steady, "careful, Bunny." 

You feel eyes glaring into you, and you trace them to Reid sitting at the bar. He has his elbow on the bar, leaning into his hand as he watches you with a look of unhappiness. 

You roll your eyes, finishing the final chug of your drink, and placing a hand on Morgan's chest. 

"You're warm," you say with a goofy smile, and Derek laughs.

"Oh, really, sweetheart?" 

You nod, leaning further into him as his hands rest on your hips. 

You make eye contact with him before you smirk and push away, "I'm going to get another drink." 

"Hey, Bun!" You turn around to Rossi, his empty glass raised to you, "Get me another old fashioned." 

You nod, smiling at the older man, and waltzing to the bar, right next to Reid. 

"You having fun, Bunny?" He asks, voice low. 

"Yes, sir." You smile, waiting for the bartender to walk over. 

He sucks in a breath at the title, "You sure are touchy with Morgan," he grits out, staring at you, not quite your eyes, but something a little bit lower. 

You scoff, "What's it to you?" 

"Nothing." He spits, eyes connecting with yours, pupils taking over the brown of his eyes. 

The bartender finally comes up to you, a cute girl in a black, low-cut tank top and some black, short shorts. She has short blonde hair, barely reaching her shoulders and it's curled up and pinned back so her hair is framing her face. 

She was gorgeous, actually.

"What can I do for ya?" She asks, shaking a drink before breaking the seal and pouring it into a glass. 

You tell her your order, and that it's on David Rossi's tab, and she nods. 

Then she turns to Spencer, "What about you handsome?" She says it sultry like she's trying to seduce him, "Need another? I'd be happy to get you somethin' else." 

Your eyes narrow on her, a deep, red-hot feeling forming in your gut. She doesn't see your stare though, completely focused on Spencer, leaning over the counter so her cleavage is on full display, biting her lip and twirling her hair. 

You decided then and there that you hated her. 

Reid tells her that he's okay, water if she insists, and when she comes back with his water, she hands him a napkin with ink scribbled on it, "I get off in 45 if you're interested."

"He's not." 

The words come out of your lips faster than you could think, your brain taking longer to catch up with your mouth. 

"Pardon?" She asks you, calm and calculating, "Didn't know you could decide that for him." 

You laugh cockily, "Oh?" You act fast pulling yourself into Reid's lap before he can protest, but his hands wrap around you, trapping you where you sat, "I think I can." 

Reid looked at the bartender, then his eyes trailed back to you, "Sorry, Brooklyn, I'm spoken for," his eyes darkened, a sly smile rising on his lips. 

The bartender walks away to work on your drinks, and you turn all the way to face Reid. 

"What are you doing, Bun?" He asks, voice low. You shift your hips and he hums, grabbing your waist to stop the movement, "Stop that. Talk to me." 

You whimper, leaning into his chest, "You were really going to choose some bottle blonde over me?" Your words come out harsh, but it's also the first time you've said what's truly on your mind in front of Reid.

His eyes land back on Brooklyn, and he smirks, "She's pretty, I'll give her that," he looks down at you, right as the bartender places the drinks in front of you, "But you? You're on a whole different level, Bun." 

You blush and shake your head, just as Brooklyn walks back over to hand you your drinks. 

As she sets them down she says, "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you two were a thing." 

You quickly shake your head, "Don't worry about it," you smile, "neither did he." 

"In my defense," Spencer laughs, his lips close to your ear, "I didn't know you were an option. If I had, there wouldn't have been a competition."

You shiver when you feel his breath on your neck, "yeah, right. You've hated me since I joined the BAU."

His eyes widened, "Hated you?" 

You nod softly, a little confused by the question. 

"Hated isn't the word I would use," He laughed. 

"What is?" You ask quietly. 

He leans his head side to side, as if pondering the best way to answer, "obsessed? Intimidated?" He looked at you, a small smirk playing on his lips, "Lusted?" 

Your eyes widened, "what?"

He shrugs, a hand falling to your thigh, thumb drawing circles, "The way you are entrances me. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you exist." He leans his head down so his eyes meet yours, "I knew I couldn't do anything about that, so I stayed away. I guess it came off as hatred." 

The hand that wasn't on your leg reached up to pluck the cotton candy off of your drink, opening his mouth and letting the sugar melt on his tongue. 

"Mmm," he hummed, eyes still locked with yours, "so sweet, Bun." 

Your jaw dropped slightly, thighs clenching, and he grips your flesh, "Nuh, uh. What's wrong?" He chuckles as you whine against him, "Use your words." 

You sit up, straightening and sliding off of his lap, "You're a sick freak, Spencer Reid." 

He licked his lips, eyes trailing down your body, "I'll bring Rossi his drink, wait by the door." 

You cross your arms over your chest, but your heart is pounding so loudly you can hear it in your ears, "what makes you think I listen to you?" 

"Oh, Bunny," his finger lifts your chin, "I'm a profiler. Absolutely everything tells me that you'll listen to me." 

You roll your eyes and scoff, "And if they ask where we're going?"

A devilish smirk flashes across his lips, and he leans toward your ear, and you can feel his breath on your skin, "you already told them you're tired," he pauses, "I'm going to fuck you to sleep, Doctor." 

You suck in a shuddering breath, eyes glazing over as he chuckles, pulling away from you. 

You take a step back, mumbling, "Hurry back." 

He smiles widely, pupils practically taking over his chocolate eyes, "good girl." 

You suck in a breath as he turns on his heel, walking over to the team as you wait by the door. Penelope frowns at you, waving, and Emily blows you a kiss. 

Rossi looks at you calmly, and Derek raises a smooth eyebrow with a smirk. 

Spencer walks back to you, grabbing your arm as you walk to the car.

Once you get back to his black Dodge Challenger, he presses you against the door, “How drunk are you right now?”

“From one to ten?” You ask, voice quiet, Reid looking at you like you’re a meal.

He nods, hands gripping your hips, “Goddamn it, Bun,” he hisses, “Yes, one to ten.”

“Four,” you answer, and his lips slam into yours in a frenzy.

It’s all tongue and teeth like he couldn’t wait a single second longer to taste you. Like it would kill him. 

Your chest arches into his, hands going to his shoulders, holding on for life in the bruising kiss. 

He pulls away, his eyes nearly black, eyes filled with an undeniable hunger, and it makes you shiver. 

A smirk comes over his face as he steps away from you, opening your door, “get in.”

You don’t have to be told twice, stepping into the car, carefully so you don’t fall in the emerald heels he bought you.

With his own money.

“Spencer?”

He turns on the car and pulls out of the parking spot, “Yeah?” 

You look at him, studying how you are both still dressed like a posh-rich couple, “You bought me these heels.” 

He nods, chuckling and placing his hand on your thigh, “Excellent observation.”

You shudder at the contact, “with your own money.” 

He smirks, “Who told you that?”

“JJ?”

“Ah,” he laughs, “Yeah, green’s your color.”

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you decide that?”

“A few weeks ago you wore this emerald green sweater,” he says, “It looked so goddamn good on you.”

You recall the memory, smiling softly, “Is that why you were avoiding me? You thought I looked pretty?”

His voice gets stern, face serious when he looks over at you, “Stop talking, Bun.”

A belly laugh escapes your mouth, head thrown back as you cackle, “I thought I pissed you off somehow!”

He gives your thigh a sharp squeeze, “I don’t think I’ve ever been genuinely angry with you.”

You sit dumbfounded, a quiet oh slipping past your closed lips. 

He looks at you and parks the car, “I’ve been upset, frustrated, and God have I been irritated with you,” he turns to look at you, pulling his hand away from your leg, “But I have never been angry with you.” 

He unbuckles quickly as you stare at him in surprise, and he gets out of the car, rushing around to open your door, “hurry up.”

You stumble out of the car, and he puts a hand on the small of your back, ushering you into his apartment.

You don’t get a chance to fully appreciate the chaotic charm of Spencer Reid’s place. As soon as you notice the books piled up everywhere, he spins you around, pressing your back against the door and capturing your lips in another kiss. This kiss is slower and more controlled, with his hands sliding up your sides to your back, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. You ball his shirt into your hands, pulling him impossibly closer.

“God, Bun, your fucking intoxicating,” he sighs against your lips, hands slipping under your shirt to rest on your bare hips, and you sigh at the contact. 

He smirks, trailing wet kisses down your neck, gently grazing his teeth over your pulse point, and you moan, “there she is,” he mumbles, “been wanting to hear you make those pretty little sounds for a while.”

You whimper, “Shut up.”

He laughs, tugging you away from the door, and guiding you into his bedroom. 

You shed off your suit jacket, and he rips your shirt over your head before pushing you down on his mattress. You gasp as you fall, Spencer's hands quickly move to your slacks, unbuttoning them and looking up at you with eyes so fiery you feel your whole body set aflame. 

“Yes,” you say, noticing the silent question Spencer is asking you, “please, yes.” 

He smirks, kissing the skin just above the waistline of your pants before tugging them down, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off.

He throws the items into the corner of his room, sitting up and looking at you: dressed in nothing but a black bra and matching panties, his eyes darken. He slides his hands down your body, and he practically growls when he feels your sopping wet cunt.

“God dammit, you’re so wet Bunny,” he says, his finger sliding over the soaked fabric of your panties, “such a silly girl, thinking I could want anyone but you.”

You whimper at the comment, and he leans down to kiss your upper thigh, slowly spreading your legs apart with the palms of his hands. Your legs widen as he settles in, kissing slowly up and around them, licking, sucking, and biting until you’re littered with heart-shaped marks. 

“Gonna show you how much I wanted you,” he hisses, his hot breath fanning over your covered pussy, “gotta let you know how dumb you are for thinking I was anyone’s but yours.”

You whimper shamelessly at the comment, your legs trying to close, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, Bunny?” he laughs, looking up at you from between your thighs, “You like it when I tell you just how stupid you are? How fuckin’ useless that little brain of yours is?”

You nod rapidly, and Spencer licks a thick stripe over your clothed core. You let out a loud gasp, your head lolling to the side at the much-appreciated attention. He pushes your underwear to the side, diving into your pussy like a man starved. Spencer kitten licks your clit before pulling it into his mouth and sucking harshly, and your back arches from the bed.

“Fuck, Spence,” you moan, hands shooting into his hair, “so fuckin good, feels so good.”

“Mmm, there you go, baby,” he says, his index finger circling your entrance, “let me know how good I’m doing,” and his finger slowly pushes into you as his mouth reconnects to your hot skin.

Spencer Reid was talented with his tongue, but, god, his fingers were a whole other story.

He curled his finger toward him, finding that sweet, gummy spot inside you almost immediately, abusing it before inserting another and scissoring his fingers.

“You’re so tight,” he mumbles against your cunt, and a loud moan slips from your lips, your hands tangling into his hair as you desperately try to grind against his tongue, but he puts a hand over your stomach, holding you down.

He continues his torment, fingers working you open and his tongue moving rapidly through your folds. His fingers drag down your front wall slowly, and you can’t help his name slipping off of your tongue. 

He smirks, looking up at you, “Atta girl, Bunny. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

You moan loudly as he continues his torment. Your legs start to shake, his tongue swirling circles around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and one of your hands grabs your breast to ground you. Your breathing gets ragged, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming.

“You gonna cum for me, Bunny?” He asks, voice low, “Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You nod, and he tsk’s.

“Without asking?” He says, a smirk on his perfect lips, slowing his fingers down and moving to kiss the insides of your thighs, “Not even going to ask after I’ve worked so hard for you?”

You throw your head back with a groan, “Please, Spencer!”

“Please what?”

You consider slapping him, telling him to stop treating you like some desperate slut, but in your current state? You might as well be.

“Please let me cum! I’ve been so good for you, Spence, I’ll be so good!”

“Yeah? You going to be my good girl?” he asks, eyes locking with yours, eyebrows raised, as he speeds up his fingers inside of your spasming pussy, “You promise?”

“Promise! Please, Spence, let me cum for you!”

He pauses for a second like he’s thinking, the smirk on his face growing, “cum for me, Bunny,” and he watches your face, jaw dropped as you orgasm around his fingers, your slick coating his palm and dripping onto the sheets below you as he works you through your bliss.  

Once you come down, though, his fingers don't stop moving, his thumb moving to rub tight circles on your pulsing clit, “You’ve got another one in you,” he says as you bite your lip and your eyes water slightly, “C’mon, baby, you can give me another, right?”

You nod your head, your lip tugged between your teeth, your legs still shaking. He doesn’t give you time to breathe, just continues to suck and lick on your clit like it’s what he was made for, and, before you know it, your eyes clench shut as you rapidly approach another orgasm.

Little whimpers leave your lips, and Spencer chuckles slightly, “My poor girl, so desperate for me. I can tell you’re getting close again, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, and he speeds up his pace, your jaw dropping into a silent ‘o’.

He kisses your stomach, holding your shaking legs with his free hand, “Give it to me, Bun.”

And you release with reckless ambition, thighs flung open and a hand gripping the sheets for your life as a string of moans leaves your lips. Spencer removes his fingers and moves down to lick up your come, and you have no choice but to whimper. He smirks and pulls away from your cunt, placing his lips hot on your own, and you taste yourself.

“You’re so sweet, Bunny. Sweeter than candy,” he sighs, hands sliding down your chest.

You whimper, forcing your hands into his hair in another soul-crushing kiss, and he chuckles into it. 

“Desperate for something?” 

And you nod, one hand trailing down the front of his body, grabbing his dick covered by his pants and he groans.

“You want this cock, Baby?” He lifts off of you, sitting with his knees on either side of your body while he quickly undoes the top two buttons of his shirt before deeming it useless and pulling it over his head while your hands make quick work of his pants, pulling off his belt and tugging his pants and boxers down enough to free his aching cock.

You moan at the sight, immediately leaning forward to kiss his tip, before he pushes you back onto the bed. 

“Another time, Bun,” he grumbles, “need to feel you around me.” 

You moan, nodding and lining him up with your quivering pussy, and he pushes forward just slightly, enough for his tip to pop inside of you, and the groan that leaves his lips is pornographic. 

“She’s so fuckin’ tight, baby, can feel her squeezing me.” 

You whimper, “please! More!” 

He chuckles darkly at your request, “yeah? You need something?” 

You roll your hips forward, pushing him in a little further before he slaps the outside of your thigh harshly. 

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” 

He emphasizes his words by pulling out slightly, and pushing back in, fucking you with just his tip, and a desperate gasp leaves your lips. 

“Look at you,” he groans, continuing his torturous motions, “so desperate for my cock. Such a nasty little thing.” 

And the thrusts harshly, abruptly sheathing his whole cock inside of you, and your head throws back. 

He has the audacity to laugh at you, quickening his pace, each thrust hitting causing him to hit your cervix in a blissfully painful way, your eyes rolling back, begging for something. You're not quite sure what, though. 

“So fucked out you can't think straight?” He coos, his pace never slowing, “if I knew this was all it took to shut you up I’d have done it a long time ago.” 

And you whine at the thought. 

He raises an eyebrow, “You like that idea, don't you, Bunny?” And you nod. 

Suddenly, he pulls out completely, slapping your thigh again, “Roll over. Hands and knees.” 

You quickly comply, supporting yourself on shaky arms and legs, and he trails a hand up your spine before pushing down, forcing your chest to the bed below you. 

He groans as you arch your back, quickly pushing himself back inside your sopping cunt.,

“Such pretty holes you got here, baby,” he whispers, spitting onto your asshole as one of his thumbs spreads out the lubricant, causing your breath to hitch. 

“Wanna fill both of them for you, can I do that?” 

And you nod recklessly, your head bouncing against the pillows at the speed and power of his thrusts, and he takes your permission to push his thumb into your virgin ass, and the moan that rips through your throat is almost humiliating. 

“You like being so full of me, don't you, Bunny?”

And you groan out, “yes! Fuck, I’m so close, Spencer!” 

He laughs as your cunt starts quivering around his cock, his tip bullying that sweet spot inside of you. 

“I know sweet thing, give it to me. Cum around my cock.” 

With permission, you release around him, your pussy clenched around his dick and your ass squeezing his thumb, but he keeps fucking you through it.

His free hand laces through your hair, pulling your head back as you whimper in overstimulation. 

“Take it,” he groans, mumbling more to himself as his cock twitches inside of you, “come on, take it like the dirty whore you are. Love having me fill both your nasty holes, fuck.” 

His rhythm falters, and he thrusts one or two more times before spilling inside of you, fucking his seed deeper inside of you. 

Once he calms down, he slowly removes his thumb before carefully pulling out of your pussy, and you whimper at the empty feeling. 

“Stay here,” he whispers, kissing your hip before scrambling to the bathroom for a warm, damp washcloth. 

He gently wipes you off, murmuring about how good you did for him, saying he’s proud of you before he helps you roll over onto your back. 

He chuckles at the goofy smile on your lips, eyes tired and droopy, and he pushes the hair that had matted to your skin with sweat out of your face.

“You okay?” He asks, voice low, and you nod happily. 

“‘M perfect.” 

“Good,” he smiles, pulling the comforter over you and cuddling up to your spent body. 

You lay in silence for a moment, happy and relaxed in his arms, before you speak up.

“So, you never hated me?” 

“Jesus Christ, Bun,” he sighs exasperatedly, “go to sleep.”

[horse-girl-anthy]

Revolutionary Girl Utena: Gender in Context

beneath the cut, I discuss the RGU's portrayal of gender in the context of 1990s Japan.

in Ikuhara's interview with Mari Kotani, he stated that in traditional Japanese society, "prince" meant "patriarch." the same is true in Western societies--there was a time when a prince would be an heir to a royal line. by 1997, this meaning had died out of large parts of the world. even the association between princes and traditional masculinity was fading. Saionji, the weakest, most pathetic man in the show, is a parody of historical Japanese masculinity, with his kendo and his blatantly regressive beliefs about women.

in RGU, prince may still mean patriarch, but in a far more subtle fashion. Ikuhara and Kotani discussed the changing expectations for men in the latter half of the 20th century--it became gauche to fight over a woman with one's brawn, so instead, power struggles were played out in the arena of looks and sex appeal. one can see this reflected in the character Akio, whose power as a prince arises from his ability to turn "easy sensual pleasure based on dependency" "into a selling point with which to control people."

Akio has his moments of showboating masculinity, but when preying on Utena, he operates by making himself seem non-threatening and soft.

not only that, but he purports to want to allow students to express their individuality and thus approves of Utena's masculine form of dress. this is a front--by the end of the show, he's telling Utena that girls shouldn't wield swords. thus, through Akio's character, the show argues that traditionalist patriarchy in Japan isn't gone, but instead has only been papered over with false progressivism.

with all that said, there seems to be more to the character. he's taken the family name of his fiance, Kanae, and whatever material power he has in the school is dependent upon her family. in Japanese society, this is considered a humiliating position to be in, something that only a shameless man would do. the show never gives the audience any insight into how Akio feels about this--is he unbothered entirely, or are his actions against the Ohtori family an expression of his repressed anger? does he harm the children under his care to compensate for his humiliation?

this aspect of Akio's character may seem irrelevant in light of the larger, immaterial social forces at work in the show. however, I would argue that it was included for a reason. Akio, despite his status as ultimate patriarch of Ohtori, is in fact a highly emasculated character, to the point where lead writer Enokido even said that he is driven by an infantile mother complex.

to explain why Akio was portrayed this way, we have to discuss Japanese history. the nation suffered a major defeat in WWII and was forced to accept whatever terms the United States laid out for it. for an examination of how the Japanese have never truly processed those events and have plunged into modernity with reckless abandon, I recommend Satoshi Kon's Paranoia Agent. to sum it up briefly, in a very short period, the nation regained its economic footing, and by the 1980s had the largest gross national product in the world. this economic boom may have allowed Japan to maintain a sense of sovereignty, dignity, and power, but it was inherently fragile.

the infamous "bubble economy" lasted from 1986 to 1991. during this time, anything seemed possible; financial struggles appeared to be a thing of the past, and capitalist excess reached new heights. the ghosts of this period can be felt across Japanese media; for instance, think of the final shot of Grave of the Fireflies (1998), where the two dead children look down on Kobe, glowing an eerie green to imply its impermanence. the abandoned theme park from Spirited Away (2001) is explicitly referred to as a leftover from the previous century, when many attractions were built and then tossed aside in a few short years.

the bubble popped in 1992, leaving an entire generation feeling cheated. the bright futures they'd been promised, which had actually materialized for their parents and older siblings, had been lost to them overnight. economic crises are often accompanied by gender panics. to quote from Masculinities in Japan, "The recession brought with itself worsening employment conditions, undermining the system of lifelong employment and men’s status of breadwinners in general. The unemployment rate was rising, and although it never reached crisis levels, men could no longer feel safe in their salaryman status. Their situation was further complicated by the rising number of (married) women entering the workforce."

with this in mind, Akio's character can be taken as a representation of masculinity in crisis in 90s Japan. he's forced to rely on women for his position in life and has failed to save his only relative, Anthy. he tries to escape his misery through hedonism, perhaps an allegorical representation of how men tried to maintain their old standard of living after the economic bubble burst.

but of course, Akio is not the main character of RGU--the story is about girls. mangaka Yamada Reiji discussed the series in the context of the 90s, stating the following:

while I opened this essay by discussing the prince, the same points could be made about the princess. despite the increasing irrelevance of royalty, princess is still an important concept. how does it relate to the socioeconomic landscape of the 90s?

in Yamada's view, RGU is full of relics of the 80s; for instance, the figure of the ojou-sama, an entitled young woman who never lifts a finger for herself. during the economic bubble, it was increasingly common for women to be entirely taken care of by the men in their lives. Yamada names Nanami as a clear ojou-sama type character: she weaponizes her femininity, demanding to be rescued, doted on, and served.

however, by 1997, the ojou-sama could no longer expect to get what she wanted. from the 80s to the 90s, the percentage of women in the workforce increased around 15%; it was no longer viable for most women to be "kept" by their families. as the men experienced the humiliation of not being able to provide for their wives and children, women were undergoing a disillusionment of their own.

Yamada blames Disney for creating the ideological structure which led women astray. obviously, the company is known for its films about princes rescuing princesses. in Yamada's recounting, during the 80s, the company was infiltrating Japan through its theme parks as well; across the country, Disneylands were opening up, and people were buying into the escapism the corporation offered. Japan, as America, became a country of eternal children. its people were waiting for a prince to appear and save them.

but fairy tales can't stave off reality forever. Yamada claims that RGU embodies the rage of young women who woke up one day and realized that they had been raised on a lie. this anger pervades the work from beginning to end.

though RGU was created in a particular social context, its lessons can be extrapolated to any time and place. as the first ending tells us:

I hope this essay helped provide more context for the series. thanks for reading!

[enwoso]

Lovie wanting a fringe so she cuts one herself one day at training and alessia freaks out and has to get it done professionally to fix it

THE CHOP — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

“mummy, mummy!” you squealed as you ran into the changing room, the girls having just came in from doing their outside training. you not being able to go and watch as it was raining and alessia didn’t want you getting sick.

so you’d been stuck inside but you had made you own fun, making things with paper, cutting paper, sticking paper, drawing and giving yourself a hair cut!

a small yelp came from your mummy as she laid eyes on you, you had given yourself a fringe — well sort of. your hair at the front being a wiggly sharp chopped line across the front of your face. it wasn’t even and it definitely didn’t look nice, even though you thought it looked pretty good.

“lovie? what have you done to your hair” alessia winced as she touched the bits of your hair, thinking maybe you were just pulling a prank on her and it was a wig or clip in extensions. it definitely wasn’t, it was most definitely your hair.

you stood with a big grin, proud of your work you’d done on your hair. “cut it!”

alessia just stared blankly at it, she didn’t have the words to say anything. she was speechless. “woah what happened to you-“ katie laughed as she seen your botched hair at the front.

“she’s given herself a fringe!” alessia smiled sarcastically as she was panicking what on earth was she supposed to do.

“ah nice, looks great!” katie grinned, you still with a big smug smile as you were really proud as the rest of the girls began to file in all with similar looks to their faces as the one your mummy had on her face when she first seen you. a look of shock horror.

“why have you done that lovie?” your mummy asked as you stood in front of your mummy sensing the fact she maybe wasn’t as happy with your hair dressing skills as you were.

“cause poppy has a fringe, i wanted one too!” you admitted, poppy was your best friend from school. the two of you were attached at the hip, always being the last in the line when it was it was pick up time because your too busy chatting with your best friend.

a small scoff came from alessia as she shook her head in pure disbelief, “well why didn’t you ask, mummy would have took you to the hairdressers!” you just shrugged, that idea hadn’t popped into your head, plus where was the fun in letting someone else do it.

you had plenty of experience, you had cut paper before, card, glitter paper and plenty of your barbie dolls hair. so how hard would it be cutting your own hair.

“what am i supposed to do with this now, do you think it’ll grow back?” alessia rattle out, panic laced her voice as she looked towards her friends for some advice. not knowing what her next move should be, maybe hiding every single pair of scissors that you could potentially get your tiny hands on.

“less it’s hair! not her limbs of course it’s going to grow back!” lotte deadpanned as alessia gave a look of realisation mumbling that what lotte said was a very valid point.

“well at least it’s not as bad as leah’s bangs!” beth joked as a gasp was heard from leah across the changing room.

“ay! mine are very nice thanks meado”

“okay, lord farquaad!”

“why don’t you maybe just take her to the hairdressers?” emily suggested with a shrug of the shoulders as she had watched the whole conversation pan out, wondering how alessia hadn’t already of thought of that or how nobody else had mentioned it yet.

“yes! foxy your a genius!” alessia jumped up as emily sat in disbelief. how had the blonde not thought to take you there.

and take you to the hairdressers is what alessia did, phoning a local hairdresser hoping they’d be able to squeeze you in to fix your botched fringe and luckily they could.

“so am i just fixing up this?” the young women asked as she pointed to your fringe as you sat in the chair with a cloak around you.

“yes, just do what you can” your mummy said sweetly as the young women cutting your hair nodded. spraying water on the fringe as small giggles came from you as the water drops fell onto your face.

your mummy watching intently as the women fixed up your fringe the women actually doing quite a good job at fixing it so it didn’t look as bad.

when the women was finished she looked towards your mummy for her validation, “yes! that looks better already” your mummy smiled as a sigh of relief came from the blonde.

“how long will it take to grow out?” alessia asked out of curiosity as the hairdresser took a look at your hair before finding an answer.

“typically around three to four months, just depends on how fast her hair grows really” the women told alessia as she hummed her top lip inbetween her teeth as she slowly nodded along with the words.

“fabulous.” your mummy whispered through gritted teeth.

alessia paid for you short haircut before receiving some advice on what to do if you alessia wanted your fringe out of your face, by putting it in clips and head bands in your hair.

your mummy lifting you back into your car seat as you sat happily with your new look, you liked your fringe. you didn’t understand why your mummy’s grump about it. you looked cool.

“and lovie, no using scissors when there’s not someone in the room with you- in fact just don’t use scissors” your mummy told you as she buckled you in as a small whine came from you.

“but- but what if i need to cut paper or-“

“tear it, rip it do anything but use the scissors!”

[airas-story]

Wrong Number (The Right Person)

“Hello,” Stephen said, half asleep as he answered his phone. He squinted at the clock. 4.19.

Who the hell was calling at four in the morning?

“Bruce. I figured it out,” the words on the other side of the phone were rushed, eager. “The serum is supposed to rebuild on a cellular level. I just—“

“Who the hell is this?” Stephen asked, annoyed. “Because I’m not Bruce.”

The voice cut off. “You’re not—“ A quiet curse and a distant, “JARVIS!” echoed over the line, before a faint click indicated the end of the call.

Stephen blinked tiredly as he tried to figure out what had just happened. He shoved his phone away; he’d deal with that tomorrow. Or later today.

Whatever.

Stephen eyed the number on his cell. He had the vague memory of someone calling and waking him up. Which normally didn’t necessitate anything from Stephen as long as they only did it once. But he had the faintest recollection of the words ‘serum’, ‘rebuild’ and ‘cellular level’ which… all right, Stephen would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious.

He called the number.

It rang for a moment before someone was answering. “Who are you and how did you get this number?”

Stephen arched an eyebrow. “You called me, that’s how I got this number,” he said. “As for who I am, this is Doctor Stephen Strange.”

“I called—” the man on the other side of the phone spluttered. “I did not call—” He cut off. The next words were distant as though someone was covering the speakers. “I did? Really?” A pause. “And you didn’t stop me?” A moment of silence, then the person was back. “So, apparently I called you. It looks like I do not have Bruce’s number memorized the way I thought I did.”

“Clearly,” Stephen said dryly.

“Right, great, so…” the man on the other end of the line paused. “Wait, why are you calling? Did you call to make me apologize? Because that’s a waste of your time. I’ve got to say, apologies aren’t my strong suit.”

Now that the man mentioned it, an apology really would be a good place to start. Stephen hadn’t been planning on asking for one, but he had to admit that, now that he’d been denied one, he was rather peeved with the notion.

“The ability to apologize shows good character,” he said. He took a moment to be grateful that Christine wasn’t around to hear him say those words. She would never let him live it down.

The man scoffed. “What makes you think I care about having ‘good character’? But if that’s why you were calling, I’m going to—”

“Wait,” Stephen interrupted before the man could hang up. “You said something about a serum last night. You also mentioned rebuilding on a cellular level.”

“Okay, hanging up—”

“I work in nerve regeneration,” Stephen interrupted again. “It’s a special focus of mine.”

There was no immediate answer, but the phone wasn’t hung up, either, so Stephen took that as a win. “Whatever you're working on sounds… well, impossible, but like it will change the world of medicine. I want to be involved.”

The silence lingered a moment longer.

“Doctor Stephen Strange, you said?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“Columbia. Top of your class. Got your MD and your PhD at the same time. Considered one of the top neurosurgeons in the field at the moment despite the fact that you only recently finished your residency.” The man let out a low whistle. “Got to say, you look good on paper.”

Stephen didn’t ask where he’d gotten that information. “That doesn’t come close to what I’m capable of,” Stephen said.

The man hummed. “You know what, why not. I’m going to send over an NDA. If you want in, you sign it.”

“Done,” Stephen said quickly. He’d read it through, of course, but this was rebuilding on the cellular level. That was the sort of research that he wanted to be involved in. 

The man laughed, but he sounded almost confused, as though he wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten here. “All right. Well then, I’ll get that NDA to you. Once you sign it you can come to my lab and we can talk.”

“Where’s your lab?”

The man paused. “Right, I guess we never covered that part. Stark Tower.”

Stephen had once heard that SI had a tendency to hire the best in their fields. That was a promising sign for his future collaborator. “Do I get a name to go with that?” Stephen asked. “If I’m asking the receptionist—”

He got a second laugh at that. “Tony,” the man said after a moment. “Tony Stark.”

Stephen froze. Wait, what?

The man—Tony Stark—let out another laugh, as though he knew just how Stephen had reacted. “I’ll see you in a few days, Doctor Strange. I look forward to working with you.” The phone clicked with the end of the call. Tony Stark had just hung up on him, but Stephen could only spare that fact the slightest bit of his attention.

Tony Stark.

Well, this was sure to be interesting.

[iknowyuu]

helloooo i was wondering if you could do a fanfic where the reader is clumsy please? like girl is so clumsy that even sieun gotta hold her mf hand so she doesnt fall like damnn... BUT YEA i hope this is a good idea 😕anyways i hope u have a good day, remember to not overwork yourself much okay? <33

kdrama! sieun x reader

// read req! around 1k words

note: shaki my fave. this ask is probably a year old LMFAOO, pero espero que disfrutas anyway !!!

daily click to help palestine and other important causes!

any outsider who happened to be looking into your life- whatever god that’s out there, whatever mysterious force that’s looking, controlling you like you were a sim had to be getting a laugh. in fact, they had to have been steadily laughing for at least a year now.

and for god’s sake, “ouch!” is not your favorite word!!

these thoughts ran through your head just as you bumped into the doorframe as you were attempting to enter your classroom. none of your classmates even looked up at the noise. they were all so used to your clumsiness that it became a daily routine. it was like a little warning that there was ten minutes left before class.

you make your way to your seat, pouting with your arms crossed. you don’t blink or move, even as the boy who sat beside you placed an ice pack on your desk. “thank you.” you mumble begrudgingly, placing it on your elbow.

sieun was like that, too— well, not the never-ending confusion in your balance as well as perception, causing you to constantly trip over invisible matter (air). it’s the consistency. every time you walked home from school together, you would trip over a pebble. every time the two of you were in the lunch line, you’d drop your money, trying to count exact change. i think you get the idea; he was like you in a sense that he expected it.

at lunch, you would constantly complain to sieun about it, telling him the amount of bruises or cuts you'd gotten that day. "sieunnnn," you'd draw out through your attractive pouty lips, sitting down at your usual table, waiting for suho and young-yi to arrive. "look at the paper cut i got. you'd think that my skin would've developed a thicker skin after the amount of times i've nearly died," you say dramatically. "it's so annoying.." you sigh, absentmindedly grabbing a hand of his, playing with his fingers. you sit next to him, placing an arm on the table, and laying your head on your arm, staring up at him.

he didn't say anything, only staring at the way you played with his fingers. he tried not to pay attention to the way you gave him butterflies, and from the way he only gets it from your touch. "it's so unfair. how come this never happens to you.." you ask dejectedly, bringing his fingers towards your lips. "or suho... or young-yi.." you mumble, kissing each of the pads of his fingers, before teasingly blowing at his pinky.

he snatched his hand from you embarrassedly, looking away with a deep blush on his face. "its your fault. you need to pay more attention where you're going."

you scoff. "my fault? are you serious? you know, i was never like this before i met you." you sat up. "it's your fault. maybe if you stopped looking at me with those eyes, stopped hanging around me, stopped looking so cute, and stopped living in my mind i'd be able to finally live my life pain-free." you say, heaving a heavy sigh just as you spotted your friends walking towards the table. the words that had just left your mouth instantly left your consciousness when you waved at them, giggling at the stupid face suho was making.

sieun, though, did not move. instead, he sat there, blushing and thinking.

yes, it's true. ever since the big-eyed introvert entered your life, you suddenly became less and less aware of your surroundings, yet more and more aware of the way sieun's hair would stick up in certain places after you ruffled it. or, even how the tip of his ears would light up red after you complimented him.

he didn't pay you (or anyone else) any mind at all when he was a school-obsessed nerd, but now that he has a social life for once, he was beginning to realize that you only treat him like this. you did not kiss the tips of suho's fingers, nor did you hold the waist of young-yi. it was only him.

these thoughts plagued his mind as the school day came and went, and as per usual, the two of you were walking home together. the sunset was just approaching, and the whole city was bathed in a golden hue, reflecting off of every surface to be found. the two of you walked side by side.

"sorry."

"what?" you turned to look at sieun with curiosity. "sorry for what?"

"for being the one who distracts you all the time. you always get hurt because of me." he says, looking down at the ground as the two of you continue walking.

"sieun.. i was just jo-" he interrupted you, "i should take responsibility for my actions." he said, boldly grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him, just narrowly saving you from bumping your shoulder into a pole.

"o-oh." you say. for once, you were the one who was embarrassed. it didn't last long though, as you giggled softly you interlaced your fingers with his. you miss the way he squeezes your hand, looking away with a faint smile on his face.

"it's about time." you whisper, looking down with a smile that was the opposite of his. noticeable and wide.

[teaboot]

I spent a lot of time alone outdoors growing up.

A lot of time.

It got to the point that some days I'd be sitting in the back of my dull beige classroom, and on the outside I'd be staring out into nothing but on the inside I'd be remembering how it felt being barefoot and knee-deep in sun-warmed mud, cutting my palms and soles to bits against craggy rock, leaning into the wind and screaming into the ocean, sprinting through the woods and standing dead silent in the dark in a wheat field in a thunderstorm, and feeling grit under my nails and bone and wood and rock and metal in my hands

And I'd look around at my stupid, flimsy pressboard desk, and the beige walls, and the grey ceiling, and feel soft, stagnant air circulate through the vents in delicate, dainty little puffs against my cheeks, and listen to kids my age who I couldn't understand and didn't feel connected to talk about things that made my brain go numb and melt out my ears while some fake-smiley adult pretended they knew how I felt

While back home where my siblings didnt know me and my parents didn't like me the house would be dark, empty, and cold, day after day, and the only satisfaction I knew I'd get would be if someone twice my size and three times my age got in my face and fucking tried it,

And I'd think,

This isn't real.

This is designed, and this is weak.

This is cardboard façades with nothing inside, this is tissue paper, this is Styrofoam packing peanuts and puffed rice wafers and the bottom three millimeters of day-old room-temperature water

And I'd get so fucking angry, so frustrated, just so stone-cold livid, helpless and furious, that sometimes I'd start to cry, not because I was sad but because my teeth were soft and round and dull and my fingers felt like they were brand-new pink pearl erasers splitting in half and everything was too much and not enough and all I needed in the whole wild world was to shred the air to pieces for the crime of being too fucking empty, too fucking soft, not *real* enough, like a wild animal clawing into prey only to have puffy cotton candy and soap bubbles spill out, sweet and tasteless and saccharine where it should be hot, bright, loud and solid and sharp.

So when the English teacher- a tall, thin man with glasses who smelled like strong patchouli and liked to ask us to "talk about our feelings" asked me to write about my life, that was what I wrote.

He told me I had a "powerful gift" and smiled, flashing straight, dull, soft round teeth.

I remember he'd ask me every day if he could read my work aloud to the class, every single day, and every day I would say "no", until one afternoon he just took my paper off my desk and did it anyways.

I was a rule-follower. Never broke the rules, never stepped out of line. I would never just leave class in the middle of a lesson, so I guess for a moment I was someone else.

I don't remember hearing him start to speak, but I remember sprinting out the door, hearing it slam behind me, and just not stopping until I was somewhere outside with the grass and the sky and the sun and a ringing inside my head.

After a while, I went back, and by then I guess he'd finished talking.

I sat down at my desk and finished the lesson.

I thought I'd be in trouble or something after that, but nobody mentioned it.

After the bell, I went home to the dark, cold, empty house and waited for something to fight.

That was years ago. Decades, now.

To tell you the truth, though, I don't think anything has changed.

[thatfanficstuff]

Breakeven - Jonas Taylor (The Meg)

Pairing: Jonas Taylor x Reader

Warnings: nope

A/N: Inspired by the song Breakeven by The Script. I was having trouble finding a Jonas Taylor fic that fit what I was looking for so I wrote one. The story of my life. Enjoy.

Jonas Taylor’s gaze swept around the flurry of activity surrounding him. He’d just left the infirmary after making certain his sister would recover from the injury she’d received when her sub had been attacked. He needed a shower and a change of clothes but he was too busy searching the halls of Mana One for your familiar silhouette. He hadn’t seen you since the two of you divorced and now that he was so close to you, he felt the need to find you. To assure himself that you were still whole and alive.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of you as you conferred with Suyin, both your heads bent over a tablet as she showed you something. He sucked in a breath as his chest tightened, an odd mix of longing and bitterness churning inside him. He shoved down the rush of emotions threatening to surface, schooling his features into his normal flat expression. He had to appear unaffected. He couldn’t let you know how affected he was by your presence, how the pain clawed at his insides.

“I thought you were going to clean up,” Mac’s voice interrupted. His friend followed his line of sight to see you. “Oh.” He dropped a hand on Jonas’ shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Jonas shrugged him off and gave him a tight smile. “Got sidetracked is all.”

“I see that,” Mac agreed as he put his hands in his pockets and followed Jonas as he walked away from you. They walked in silence for a bit, steps echoing in the quiet hall.

Jonas licked his lips. “Seems like she’s doing okay after everything.” Bitterness colored his words though he’d tried to hide it. He hated that he was torn in pieces, aimless without you and you didn’t seem bothered in the least. It was bullshit.

Mac studied him for a moment. “She’s keeping her head up.” He grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him into a room. “Let’s have a drink. You look like you could use one.”

Jonas nodded and took a seat in what was clearly Mac’s private room. He sipped at his drink as he watched Mac contemplate something. Jonas knew the look well and waited for his friend to come to a decision.

“You’ve got it all wrong you know,” Mac finally said with a furrowed brow.

“What have I got wrong?”

“It killed her to file those papers.”

Jonas snorted. “I find that unlikely. No, she thought I was crazy just like everyone else and left rather than stand by me like she should have.”

Mac shook his head. “I promised her I wouldn’t say anything, but I’m tired of holding her while she cries over you. I love her like a sister, but she needs you.”

“Then why the hell did she leave?” Jonas tried and failed to mask the desperation in his words.

“Because,” Mac hesitated, swirling his drink as if searching for courage in its depths. “Because the old bastard gave her an ultimatum.” Jonas knew instantly he must be talking about your father. None of you liked him but he was too wealthy and powerful to just write off. Mac sighed, regret contorting his features. “He threatened dire consequences, Jonas. Said you’d suffer if she didn’t cut ties.”

A heavy weight settled in his stomach. If your father wasn’t already dead, he’d kill him for threatening you. For making you too scared to come to him. “Threatened? What did he do, Mac?” His grip tightened on his glass, knuckles whitening.

“He didn’t want your presence staining his good name as he put it. Said he’d use all of his resources to make sure you were broke and homeless with no where to turn. He told her there wasn’t a corner of the Earth where you would be safe from him. Then he told her if she tried to run with you, he’d make certain she’d never see you alive again.” Mac’s voice was little more than a whisper by the end, heavy with the burden of the knowledge he’d been carrying.

A cold shock washed over Jonas, followed by a surge of anger that left him breathless. Your father hadn’t threatened you. He’d threatened Jonas. You’d shattered your entire world to protect him. His breath came heavy and he placed his glass on the table in front of him, afraid he’d drop it otherwise. He ran a hand over his head. “Damn it.” How hadn’t he seen this? Why hadn’t he demanded more answers from you? Why had he just assumed you were abandoning him like everyone else? “I can’t believe she never—”

“Hey,” Mac interrupted gently, placing a hand on Jonas’s back. “You didn’t know because she didn’t want you to. She walked away to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” Jonas echoed, the word bitter on his tongue. The truth of your motivations stripped him of his resentment, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its wake.

“Jonas,” Mac’s voice softened, “she loved you enough to let you go but she was far from okay with it. It tore her up. Still does.”

He clenched his jaw as he processed everything he’d just been told. If you loved him that much, maybe there was still hope for the two of you.

You’d taken to hiding in your room since Jonas arrived, leaving only when you were made to. You hadn’t even been to see Lori in the infirmary afraid you’d run into him there. Mac had been trying to get you to tell Jonas the truth since your father died, but you just couldn’t. He’d hate you for breaking his heart, regardless of the circumstances. It was better to just let him move on without you. For him to find his happiness even if you never did.

A knock at your door reverberated through the room. You opened it without checking who was on the other side. An action you regrated instantly when you found yourself face to face with the love of your life. “Jonas,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word.

He greeted you in return before pushing gently past you and stepping into the room. You shut the door behind him, your hand trembling against the cold steel. “I didn’t expect—”

“Neither did I,” he said cutting you off. “Why did you do it? Why did you leave me?”

The words hung between you as your eyes searched his, wondering why he suddenly wanted to have this conversation when he’d never asked at the time. “Jonas, I…” you trailed off not certain what you could say to get him to possibly forgive you.

“Please,” he pleaded as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “I heard things about your father, about threats. I need to hear it from you. The truth.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your gaze faltered, drifting away before finding its way back to him. “I…you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” he said, stepping closer.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as your heart raced, pounding against your ribs. “My father threatened everything. I never wanted to leave you but if I stayed, if I fought for you…He might have been bluffing, but I couldn’t risk it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you ask for my help?”

A laugh escaped you then, a cold, bitter sound of disbelief. “How could I, Jonas? Threats from my father aside, you’d been pushing me away since the day everything went to shit. I tried to help you, tried to back you and you didn’t want it. When my father gave me the ultimatum, I figured it wouldn’t matter much to you anyway. It didn’t matter if I was broken, as long as you were okay.”

You couldn’t bear to look at him as hot tears trailed down your cheeks. Strong hands gripped yours and you sucked in a breath in surprise. “Listen to me,” Jonas ordered. “I always knew you deserved better than me and I didn’t want to drag you down with me, but nothing, absolutely nothing would ever make me quit loving you.”

When you said nothing he squeezed your hands. “Say you believe me,” he whispered. “Believe that in a million moments, in a million lifetimes, I would always choose you.”

Your eyes found his, wanting to believe his words. Gods you wanted to. And as he gazed at you full of hope and love and desperation, you found that you did. Could the two of you really have another chance? With your father and his threats gone from your lives, what was stopping you?

Jonas leaned forward suddenly and you barely had time to catch your breath before his lips met yours in a kiss that was both an apology and a plea. His hands moved to cup your face tenderly as if you could vanish in an instant.

Pulling back just enough to meet your stunned gaze, Jonas ran his eyes over your face as if memorizing your features. Whatever he found must have made him happy as a wide grin curled his lips. “Marry me,” he breathed. “Be mine again. Forever this time.”

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. Fresh tears trailed the paths of the previous ones but this time they were happy, full of love and hope. You brushed your lips against his as you whispered his name.

He kissed you again, needy and wanting, before resting his forehead against yours. “Is that a yes?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, baby, that’s a yes.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into the curve of your neck and inhaled your still familiar scent. For the first time since you walked out the door all those years ago, he felt whole.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered against his skin.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. As long as you never leave my side again everything will be fine.” As he pressed a kiss to your temple, there was a knock on your door.

“Go away,” he called, making you laugh.

There was a stretch of silence before you heard Mac say your name in question which only made you laugh harder. You pulled away to answer your door, Jonas moving with you. Mac looked between the two of you, before grinning like an idiot. “I’m sorry to interrupt this, like you have no idea how sorry, but we’ve got a meeting to talk about the meg.”

You nodded and moved to follow him before Jonas grabbed your arm and pulled you back. “We’ll be there in a minute,” his rough voice said as he shut the door in Mac’s face.

When he turned you and pressed you against the door as he kissed you deeply, all your protests disappeared. This is where you belonged. Right here with your husband as if the last five years had never happened. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back and wondered if they really needed you to tell them to kill the giant shark before it ate everyone. Surely they could figure that out on their own.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

👑The girl in the silver dress👑New version

Aemond x reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theselection

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are invited to become a selected girl for Prince Jacaerys's selection. You never thought you would fall for his uncle, prince Aemond instead.

🔷Author's note: Based on the books by Kiera Cass, but reading them is not required.

🔷Wordcount :5393

🔷Warnings: It is not a very dark or triggering fic. If you found something that upsets you, however let me know ill change the warnings

The life you had before the palace was as a child’s coloring book before growing up. You didn't bother about crossing over the lines, no one told you to stop adding hats to the animals you coloured in, or to stop using so much pink and glitters. There was no line you could cross, no scissors wrapped in papers who could cut you open without you realizing.

All of that changed for better or worse when you were selected for the Selection of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon or as he would soon be known under his ruling name, King Jacaerys Velyaron. 

You never thought you would be selected. There are strict laws that only noble ladies from the minor houses can join the month-to-a-year-long competition where the Seven Kingdoms are introduced to his future bride. 

It is more than a beauty pageant. The skills of each bride are tested. The selection does not require mere Valyrian blood or beauty alone anymore. It has become a deadly game full of manipulation, lies, tricks, schemes and plots. Things you know nothing of.

Your house is not as grand as Baratheon, or as rich as Lannister, your house…It has always been decent. Your parents sheltered you from court life and tried giving you a normal life, as normal as one could have with your titles. And now, it all would change

You sit in the dining room of the royal castle, known as the Red Keep. The castle has survived multiple wars, sieges, treasons and deaths long before any of its current inhabitants graced this world, and many more would follow before you all are bones.

In front of you is a silver plate with a spoon, a fork, a knife and a glass. You never knew you cutted your food wrong or that you lean that much with your elbows on a table until your princess training began. 

It is all so terribly confusing. There are 35 girls here, and they want the same as you do. They want to be the one for Prince Jacaerys. They want to sit next to him at official functions and parties, they want one day to be his love, to continue his legacy and perhaps more than Jace, they want this glamorous life. 

You tell yourself that this uneasy feeling, that you don’t quite belong here, will fade. It has to. These girls are all from higher noble houses and used to courtly manners and training. Of course you will be a bit out of place at first. 

A gorgeous black-haired girl with a clear stag necklace with diamonds speaks up, rising from her chair as if she is already proclaimed queen. She turns to the woman who is tasked with guiding and teaching you all how to behave accordingly as the consort of the king. That lady is called Lady Aemma Arryn, yet you may refer to her as Lady Aemma or Lady Arryn. 

The girl’s voice has a slight accent from the Stormlands. ‘’When will we meet the royal family?’’ You believe her name is Floris, but you are not sure. You become slightly worried by her question, as you are in no state of preparation to meet anyone or anything royal at all.

Your teacher sighs, annoyed by this question. ‘’Patience, girls. I won’t introduce you to any royal. Some of you can curtsy but others would fall flat on their faces.’’ She doesn't even glance in your direction. So why do you feel as if she speaks directly about you?

Floris nods to that with a sweet smile, her eyes blinking rapidly. ‘’That would be embarrassing.’’ She says, eying the girls around the table, including you. You pretend to be too busy with your glass to notice.

Lady Aemma smiles. ‘’Yes it would.’’ She says, with a thinly veiled laugh. ‘’For you it would be.’’ She adds with a charming smile.

A few girls giggle delighted by this spectacle and amazing comeback. Floris becomes furious and you fear that for now, Lady Aemma has made an enemy. ‘’Ladies, focus. Remember: You are always one step away from a scandal.’’ The grand doors of the dining room open.

35 heads turn at the same time, taking in the mysterious visitors. It is two young adult males, both dressed in black, with each a motorcycle helmet under their arms. One is slightly taller yet the smaller one stands out the most thanks to his cheekish, boyish and almost taunting grin. 

Nervous chatter erupts among most girls, as they already seem to know who these two men are. You wonder if one of these two men is Jacaerys. The smaller one speaks, and despite the distance between you and him he speaks as if he is sitting right next to you, almost purring in your ear and sending shivers down your spine. ‘’I didn’t know the royal harem had been invited already.’’ 

You are offended by his comment and frown. The selection is not a harem. One girl will be chosen. One. This is nothing like a harem. The taller man remains silent, his expression unreadable as a book in a foreign language you only heard in a dream.

Lady Aemma smiles and for a moment you believe her. You believe she is happy to see both. Until the corners of her mouth slightly begin to hang in displeasure or perhaps pure disgust when she greets the man.

‘’Prince Aegon.’’ You slowly lift your elbows again from the table, quickly sitting straight. ‘’Forgive me, you nor your brother were expected back so quickly.’’ Aegon, or rather prince Aegon approaches the long table with 35 young women that stare at him as if he is a statue that has come to life.

Aegon takes no offense. ‘’It is no matter, Lady Aemma.’’ He makes sure to put a little extra effort on the lady word. ‘’You are getting old, after all.’’ Lady Aemma turns her head so he can’t see her scowl, very subtly before looking at the selected girls again.

She speaks to you all. ‘’Girls, this is Prince Aegon, and Prince Aemond. Please stand up for them, and make a curtsy as is custom.’’ You all stand up before following her orders, making a curtsy or a bow.

Aegon seems to enjoy the attention when his brother remains in the background, unaware of your gaze slowly shifting from Aegon's eyes to his own. When he finally notices your gaze, he scowls. Your smile dies and you turn your gaze to the glass in front of you. Aemond and Aegon leave soon after that, having caused quite the uproar among the selected.

The girl a few chairs away from you speaks, her blue and gorgeous dress reveals she is from either the Arryn, or perhaps a Velyaron. ‘’Is Jace just as pretty as them?’’ She wonders, her voice a little sigh of a girl slowly falling in love.

Lady Aemma scowls at her, before insulting the girl. ‘’Prince Jacaerys to you, and have some self-respect and decorum.’’ A few girls giggle, but you don’t join this time as you take in the sad smile of the girl, clearly embarrassed. 

Two months in the selection and you feel less like a failure every passing day. One day, when you are busy practicing the dance of the dragons, Lady Aemma returns from her walk. Several girls who have been practicing break up their dances, but you and your partner keep engaged in the dance. The girl was shy at first, keeping her movements stiff and ungracious, but after your encouraging smile and jokes about how you look like a parrot when you dance, she has loosened up and dances as if she is the most free and spirited girl out there. Her name is Maris. You and Maris smoothly glide over the dance floor, leaving jealous eyes behind. Not jealousy aimed at you, but at Maris or the bond you two have. Lady Aemma quietly walks over, her hands folded in front of her blue dress when she takes in the movements you and Maris make, faithful to the waltz.

She smiles, nodding in slight approval. You are shocked and you can tell that Maris is too. ‘’Good, especially you, Lady Baratheon. You are a natural.’’ To you, she does not utter a word but gives you a warning glare before turning her head to the other girls. You and Maris finally break up your dance so you can listen to what Lady Aemma has to say.

She sighs, deeply and very unbecoming of a lady, before speaking. ‘’Ladies, it is with great displeasure and my greatest fear that I must admit to myself, and you all, as adults, that you are finally ready to meet what could become your future family in law, as well his royal highness, prince Jacaerys Velyaron.’’ You hear Maris gasp, as well as other girls who giggle and mutter excitedly. Lady Aemma glares at one girl who lets out an excited cheer. ‘’Do not make me regret this.’’ She warns the girl in particular. 

That evening, you are prepared to meet the royal family. You are put in a silver coloured dress with transparent sleeves,  befitting your house colors. The other girls are dressed as well, each in another dress with a different model. When the selection started you all were giving a tailor, a handmaiden, a team of make-up artists and dressmakers. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t nervous to meet the royal family. They have a reputation for being intense people. They dislike outsiders joining their royal private circle, and for centuries banned people for even joining theirs. Now the rules have changed, and you are prepared for your meeting, hearing other girls talk with their teams.

Lady Floris Baratheon wears a dark black with gold gown, sleeveless with a huge diamond choker. Again, it would be a lie if you wouldn’t admit she wears it very well. She orders her maids to tighten her corset even more, before her small feet glide into her dark black heels.

You hear sniffs beside you, and turn your head to a gorgeous blonde crying girl in a red gown. Her make-up artist sighs. ‘’I can’t work like this. The girl keeps crying and it ruins the eyeliner I put on her.’’ Is he heartless? You feel conflicted as you take in her big puffy red eyes. She is upset.

The dressmaker does her best to comfort the girl, but fails miserably because of her annoyed glare and her tight pressed lips. ‘’You are ruining everything we worked so hard for with your tears.’’ She warns the girl. 

That only makes the girl feel even more terrible. ‘’I don’t know. What if he hates this? What if he hates me?’’  Your chest tightens as you become worried about that too.

A woman with her gorgeous silver locks high up on a knot in the Valyrian style, approaches the girl, gently taking her hands into her own. ‘’He doesn’t know you, he can’t hate you yet.’’ She tells the girl, who slowly calms down because of this act of sincere genuine kindness. That is all she needed.

The girl continues giving her advice as you listen in on them, feeling terrible that you do so. ‘’Jacaerys is very kind, and takes his role and the selection very seriously. He will have a small talk with all of us. Just be yourself, Jace likes that the most.’’ She finally notices you listening in. Instead of glaring or snapping at you, she smiles. ‘’You look beautiful. Silver is your color.’’

You are speechless. The girl she helped, is not. ‘’Thank you, Lady Baela. You’re always very kind to me.’’ She sniffs. ‘’If my face wasn’t full of snot and ruined make-up, I’d hug you.’’ 

Lady Baela smiles, yet beams at the compliment before taking the girl’s hand. After Baela has cleaned her face for her, and put on a fresh layer of much less expressive make-up, she takes the girl by her hand. ‘’I’m simply speaking my truth, lady Dyana. Come, we’ll go in together. I met the royal family before. They are actually very nice.’’

Floris snaps her head to Baela, taking in her dark blue puffy gown as she scoffs, clearly hating the seahorses that are embroidered on it. ‘’Where the hell would a girl like you met the royals before?’’ She asks, her voice clearly jealous.

Baela smiles, sweetly. ‘’Be careful, Lady Floris. Green clashes with black.’’ She walks with Dyana to the people by the doors, to let them know they are ready. You smile, faintly until you notice Floris approaching you.

She takes in your plain silver dress. ‘’You’re the nameless girl.’’ That is one way to greet you.

You shrug. ‘’What if I am?’’

Floris sighs, deeply as if you are just stupid before giving you some friendly advice meant as a threat. ‘’Just don’t bother, dear. A prince like Jace wants a girl with a house, banners, and good men to fight his wars.’’

You might suck at dancing, at court manners, public speaking, but the history and the books? That is something you excel at. You turn your head. ‘’Lady Floris. Perhaps if you spent as much time with your nose in a book as you did making others feel miserable, you would know that the last time the Seven Kingdoms had a war was hundreds of years ago. I suggest you spent more time reading, no man likes a girl that can’t keep up with him.’’ A few girls overhear and giggle among themselves, as Floris becomes a dark shade of red. You let her be, before telling the crew you are ready as well.

You are let in at the same time as Dyana. You take a moment to take in the grand chandelier, dangling from the ceiling, the polished marble tiles and the buffet tables with delicious sweets and glasses of champagne. The curtains that cover the tall windows are in a red color with dark black details, and you hear a faint orchestra play an upbeat tune as the selected are paraded to the royal family. 

You feel like you don’t belong here at all, suddenly. You and Dyana both approach the royal family. You will curtsy to every member, and when he has the time, Prince Jacaerys will formally meet his selected, making a conversation of about 3 minutes with every girl. You feel nervous, so you wonder how Lady Dyana  is feeling. She must feel even worse. She is close to crying again. You wait for her to catch your glance. She finally looks at you, a little nervous and worried.

You wink at her, causing her to giggle loudly. The royals snap their heads in her direction, but Jace’s lips curl into an approving smile, before grinning back. Dyana makes a deep, beautiful curtsy for Jacaerys. He speaks to her, smiling as well, before likely asking what she was laughing about. Dyana nods to your direction and Jace follows her gaze to you. Jace nods as if he thanks you, before taking off with Dyana.

Your hand is grabbed and you are tugged out of the line by Lady Aemma. You smell her intense parfum as you are dragged to the side. ‘’I had hoped you learned by now.’’ She sighs, almost disappointed in you. She turns her body so she can look at you.

You blink, confused. ‘’Had learned what, Lady Aemma?’’ You ask, your voice soft. ‘’Dyana seemed nervous-’’

She grabs your shoulders, breaking protocol. ‘’These girls are not your friends, Y/N. They would throw you from the towers so they can hold Jace’s hand when he takes in your corpse. Every girl is here for herself. You should be too.’’ She warns you, but you are not angry. Just upset.  Deep down, you know very well she is right. ‘’You are a sweet, genuine girl with a kind, gentle heart. It won’t lead you anywhere with this family. Take it from me. Kind girls, finish last.’’ She looks at King Viserys when speaking. ‘’If they reach the finish at all, that is.’’ You heard Floris once tell a story that Lady Aemma was a Queen once, but that Viserys degraded her because she could not deliver him a healthy child. Others say that Alicent used her dark magic on the king, breaking their relationship. So you don’t really know if there is truth to those rumors, and if so, how much truth.

‘’Come, Jacaerys is occupied, but the other members of the family must be greeted.’’ She takes you with her, walking you to the other members of the very well dressed royal family. ‘’May I present, Lady Y/N?’’ Princess Regent Rhaenyra is the first to address you.

Her dress takes your breath away, it is a dark black gown with red and golden details, but on her back are dragon wings. You drop in a low respectful curtsy before lowering your gaze. The princess smiles, approvingly before telling you to rise with a nod. ‘’My. Your dress is by far the simplest, but still the most beautiful out here. You must share your tailor with me.’’ She rambles excitedly. ‘’I love the little sparkles.’’ She seems like a sweet kind woman. You don’t understand why the media calls her cruel. ‘’And I saw what you did for your fellow selected. You have taken my interest, I don’t doubt you’ll hold Jacaerys soon as well.’’

You are brought before the king next, King Viserys. Aemma does not speak a single word, but you drop into another curtsy. The king speaks, and you worry for madness coming out. But it is far from madness. It is plain, true, as clear as a piece of well forged glass. ‘’It is a wonderful day, seeing a common girl grace the halls with the posture and decorum of a true born royal. Your kindness with the girl did not go unnoticed.’’ He speaks very kindly and you almost feel as if you are back at home again. He nods to Dyana who is now dancing with Jacaerys, in the waltz you practiced, not a care in the world. ‘’A ruler must have a kind heart, that beats for her people.’’

You are shocked and honored by his compliments. ‘’Y-your majesty, King Viserys. Your words honor me.’’ You speak, your voice touched by his kindness. 

A sharp but elegant voice cuts in, interrupting you, protocol and the reality is brought back in. ‘’May I cut in?’’ A beautiful red haired woman in a dark green gown with sharp spikes smiles at you, and you know she is Queen Alicent.

Viserys nods, smiling as you gulp silently. ‘’Of course, dear. This is her majesty, Queen Alicent Hightower.’’ You make another deep curtsy, and you can’t understand why she is called a witch or worse in the media sometimes.

Alicent smiles at Aemma. Aemma smiles back, unchallenged. You can read rivalry and hatred in both their eyes. Until Alicent speaks. ‘’Surely your flock needs help? I’ll take over for you. She only needs to meet my sons and the little princes.’’ The flock, being selected girls. You feel insulted and a little frightened when Alicent takes you with her, not giving Aemma a chance to save you. She walks you to the two young adult men, no longer in leather and jeans, but in suit and tie. They look extraordinarily handsome, for sure. But you are not here for them.

Prince Aegon sighs, muttering to his brother how bored he is. Prince Aemond does not even respond, having his hands folded on the back of his suit jacket, and his good eye is aimed at you, and you alone as a bee in trance of a blooming flower. Aegon even waves his hand in front of Aemond’s good working eye, before Aemond snaps at him, likely telling him to behave. You find it wondrous how he is the youngest, yet act as the eldest.

Alicent presents you to her sons. ‘’Aemond, Aegon…’’ She glares at the latter, warning him with that. ‘’This is Lady Y/n.’’ You dip in another curtsy, smiling at both royals who do nothing to even acknowledge your existence. 

The silence is painfully awkward as Alicent leaves. You speak, your voice soft and sincere. ‘’I am honored.’’

The eldest prince scoffs, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. ‘’I imagine you would be.’’ You try to find your tongue, to say something sharp and witty but all that comes out is a very soft:

‘’Pardon?’’

Aegon laughs, gesturing around him. ‘’We are royalty, you are like a peasant. We are the lions, you are our gazelle.’’ You feel nauseous at that description, as if he can rip you to shreds. 

You turn your head to the other prince who remains silent. The prince follows your gaze. ‘’Don’t talk to my brother, he is not very talkative. Unless you like to talk about ancient Dornish statues, or banter on endless debates about historic battles.’’ You would much rather be getting a drink, then to be in the crossfire between those two.

Aemond hisses, clearly a bit embarrassed in his rough voice. ‘’Aegon.’’

You see an opening. And so you take it. ‘’I quite like Dornish statues. My father is the patron of art conversionship in Sunspear.’’ Aegon bristles, scoffing when sipping his drink when Aemond looks at you as if he only sees you now for the first time. He sees the real you, for the first time.  ‘’You do? You don’t…’’ He clears his throat. ‘’Find it boring?’’

Your father has been patron of persevering Dornish and other foreign cultural works, protecting it from greedy graverobbers and folks who think other people’s cultures belong in their own house. He makes sure the local museums display it, earn money from it and profit from it but most of all: That Dornish aritfacts remain in Dorne. Your dad does admirable work, some would call it boring, perhaps. But how else can you learn from history, if you don’t cherish and protect it?

Your words come blurting out, before you can stop them, quoting your father. ‘’Only a soul with little imagination would find history boring.’’ Aegon stops sipping his drink, looking at you with newfound interest. But Aemond has become absolutely silent, a smile on his pink soft lips.

You forgot yourself for a brief moment. These men are above you. ‘’I-..’’

The younger prince talks, his rough but soft voice leaving his mouth. ‘’I concur.’’ He nods, even. ‘’What is your favorite piece?’’ He brings his champagne glass to his lips before taking a sip.

You watch, before answering the question. ‘’It’s a cliche, but Nymeria’s statues, the ones that have been constructed by her family.’’ You tell him, with a dismissive little laugh.

The prince does not agree with you. ‘’Is it a cliche, or is it a classic?’’ You are dumbstruck at that comment, feeling all your wit leave your body. He smiles, reassuring that he does not find your interests stupid. And that is something no one else did before. He in fact, takes the bait and asks you things. ‘’The one’s at Sunspear or the one’s at Dornegarden? Of course, a lot of smaller statues have been build all over Dorne to honor her.’’ You are impressed by his knowledge.

You nod. Dornegarden is on your bucket list. ‘’Dornegarden’s are my favorite. The statues are so immensely huge, as if she is a goddess looking down at you.’’ You describe it the way your father described it to you.

Beyond his shyness you can see a small smile appearing, gentle as a first snowflake in november. ‘’Ah, I can see why you like her. She was clever, fierce and beautiful too.’’ You blush, unintended. 

You know it is polite to ask, but part of you is dying to know. ‘’And yours?’’ Aemond opens his mouth but sadly, the pig that is his brother interrupts, ruining this precious moment and shutting Aemond up.

Aegon grins. ‘’He has a fascination for everything depressing, doomed and disastrous.’’ You try to think of a specific name that comes to mind. Isn’t all history depressing, dooming and disastrous, in certain ways? 

‘’Oryn.’’ Aemond mumbles, quietly.

You hear it perfectly. If he were in a crowd of thousand screaming men, you would hear it just as clear. ‘’Oryn?’’ You find that an interesting intriguing choice.

Aemond nods, his silver hair going up and down.‘’Yeah.’’

‘’I like his statues.’’ You tell him. His temple was destroyed by his usurper, the king’s brother, when Oryn was cut in pieces. The foul king took Oryn’s wife as well.

The prince takes a bigger sip of his champagne, his body language suddenly tense and clearly distressed. ‘’You don’t have to lie to me. I know no one really gives a fuck about him.’’ He mutters as if he hates himself for caring as much as he does.

You step closer to the prince before speaking your truth. ‘’I’m not lying, his story is a tragedy but it doesn’t mean that the story isn’t worth telling. It has betrayal, brotherly love, devotion and romance. How can you not love it?’’ You bring out your smartphone from your handbag, showing Aemond a few photo’s your father sent on his recent travels. ‘’They found his grave recently. My dad was there when they cut the rock open.’’ Aemond’s mood changes back from sullen to excited, to impressed, yet still reserved.

‘’No way.’’ He murmurs, looking at the little screen as if it’s a diamond. ‘’Your father leads the expedition?’’ He sounds impressed, and you blush.

You know the Dornish would never. Too long, Westerosi grave robbers from the Crownlands have taken Dornish artifacts. ‘’No, the Dornish lead it themselves. Father simply is invited, because he protects the art faithfully. The Dornish have closed him in their hearts.’’ 

Aemond understands that, still his eyes are glued to your phone, taking in every detail on the dark photo. ‘’Oh, yes, of course.’’

He mutters to himself.‘’Where did they even find this?’’

You tell what your father told you. ‘’A farmer found it. Apparently his son was playing and saw a crack in a rock. They rolled the rock away, revealing a cave. Inside the cave, there was his tomb.’’ The rest of the world seems to fade when you and Aemond talk, the worries and fears of not fitting in miles away.

He grins, smiling, letting out a little chuckle. ‘’I love that. I doubt his brother knew of it. His supporters must have made it, after Oryn was slain.’’ His brother would be Prince Razar, the brother of Prince Oryn, and Princess Farya.

He is an Oryn supporter, so perhaps he likes to hear this as well. ‘’Dad says they found traces of Queen Farya. Flowers were left. They withered, but they are testing the remains. They think they already know it are Dornish daisies.’’ You tell him.

The simple grin he lets out does something to your heart. ‘’Her favorite, according to many poems out of that time.’’ 

You nod. ‘’Yes, exactly.’’

Aemond becomes a little more serious, still rambling on, happy to finally have found someone, anyone that listens. ‘’Do you think that she was even allowed to visit her brother’s grave? Or out of the palace?’’

You think deeply before speaking. You avoid his gaze. ‘’Perhaps in secret? When people are meant to be together…’’

He answers without missing a moment. ‘’They will find a way.’’ You smile at one another, both lost in each other’s eyes.

He breaks eye-contact, nodding to the phone. ‘’This is certainly amazing. Thank you for showing me this.’’

You take back your phone, putting it in the handbag. ‘’Have you ever been in Dorne, my Prince?’’ You wonder. Aemond seems to slightly blush.

He nods. ‘’Yes, many times. I go as often as my duties allow me.’’ You inwardly sigh, delighted. That must be so wonderful.

The prince then turns to look at you. ‘’And you?’’

You shrug, a little playing with your handbag.‘’It’s a heartwish of mine.’’ You confess.

Aegon makes a strange sound, startling you as if he is about to puke any moment. ‘’Give me a fucking bucket.’’ he comments, grumpily you both ignored him for so long. You feel embarrassed and mocked.

Aemond’s smile dies and he is back to hiding his emotions. ‘’Aegon, perhaps you can go get a drink?’’ He suggest, sweetly. Aegon nods, taking off. Once Aegon is gone, he turns to you. ‘’I apologize for him. We had such a lovely conversation and now its ruined.’’ You nod, but part of you is worried the conversation isn’t allowed. 

You try to give him some advice, though. ‘’Don’t be. He is your brother, but you don’t control him.’’

He seems dumbstruck by those words, staring at his empty champagne glass. ‘’Hm. I’ve been apologizing for his behavior before I was old enough to walk.’’ He mutters.

You smile, faking a bit of a stern glare causing him to chuckle. ‘’Well, maybe you should stop apologizing.’’ You mean it. He is not responsible for Aegon.

The prince nods, as if you have given him a lot to think about. ‘’Maybe I should.’’

You notice the Prince, Jacaerys has joined you, listening in with his hands folded on his back. You notice the seahorse pin on his chest.‘’Ahum.’’

You dip in a curtsy. ‘’Your highness.’’

Jacaerys ignores you, staring at prince Aemond. ‘’Uncle.’’

‘’Nephew.’’

You notice another rivalry, unfolding right before your eyes. You wish to leave, right now.

Jacaerys speaks, his voice taunting but soft. ‘’Thank you for keeping Lady Y/n occupied when I spoke to the other ladies. It is her turn now, however.’’ Aemond lifts his chin as if he wants to speak, but changes his mind.

‘’Of course.’’ And with that, he lets you go. You turn on your heel, walking back to Aemond. ‘’It is always nice to talk with someone about history.’’ You thank him with that and smile. He doesn't smile. He does not even glance at you, anymore.

All you get is a vague, disinterested ‘’Hm.’’

The prince takes you with him, walking to the buffet before offering you a glass of champagne. ‘’Did he hurt you?’’

He casually asks between filling the glasses. 

You are confused. ‘’Who?’’

He shrugs, as if it's obvious. ‘’Aemond?’’

You become even more confused. ‘’No?’’

Jace leans in a little closer. ‘’You must know, it is inappropriate for any selected to have another lover. It can lead to disqualification or worse, punishment.’’ He warns you, kindly of that. You know he does not mean to harm or threaten you.

You nod, thankful but you do want to clear things up.‘’I didn’t know that. But Prince Aemond and me only talked about Dornish statues.’’ Not very romantic, so why does your heart beat so fast?

Jacaerys scoff. ‘’Statues?’’ You can see that Aemond is likely the only history buff in his family. That must be lonely.

You smile, telling him the same thing you told Aemond. ‘’Yes, in Sunspear-’’

But this time, you get a deep sigh before Jace even rolls his eyes. ‘’Don’t you want to talk about something more exciting?’’ He suggests. 

You feel as if you have been hit in the face. You feel rejected and foolish. ‘’Like what?’’

He shrugs. ‘’Most girls tell me of their house, or their horses.’’ Their horses? You hear yourself think, and its not a pleasant thought. How…dull? And all of them? You bet that Floris told them to bring it up.

You repeat after him. ‘’Horses?’’

‘’You don’t like horses?’’ He asks. Horses terrify you.

‘’I don’t dislike them.’’ You say and it's the truth. Horses are beautiful from a distance. You just don't want to ride them. Or talk about them. ‘’I don’t like talking about horses. I don’t want to have dull meaningless conversation with you.’’

Jace straightens his back. ‘’That is part of your job, should you become my queen.’’ You feel your lips hang in a sorrowful line and for the first time you wonder if this is what you really want.

Jace notices your mood change quickly. ‘’But it's alright. We can talk about something else too. What is your favorite sweet?’’

You nod, accepting his attempts at winning your heart.  ‘’I like cupcakes.’’ Jacaerys takes a chocolate cupcake for you from the impressive cake stand, looking at it very briefly, inspecting it before handing it to you. ‘’These are my favorites. I have yet to taste anything else that taste as good as these.’’ That sounds promising. You clumsily bite the cupcake off, tasting the surprisingly good white chocolate filling. It tastes as good as he said it would, and your argument from earlier vanishes as snow that is basked in sunrays. ‘’It is really good.’’ You say, licking your fingers off when you think no one is watching. Jacaerys is amused by your actions, before slyly doing the same. 

Jacaerys seems a bit nervous, before he sighs after you both have finished your cupcakes. ‘’I’m sorry for being a little mean about Aemond earlier. I’ve been hearing disturbing news about him and his brother. I don’t see you girls as my cattle or my livestock, but I do feel responsible. You are here under my roof, for me. You put up with etiquette and court rules for me, the very least I can do, is protect you from men that want to harm you.’’ You notice your gaze swift between Jace and Aemond, who is now talking with an unknown silver-haired woman in a luscious green gown. That must be Helaena.

You feel foolish you even entertained the prince that long, or talked with them. ‘’Do you think Aemond is that malicious?’’You wonder.

Jace does not need long to answer that question. ‘’I know he is. They both are. If you are important to me, he wants to destroy you.’’ You find that a little extreme but Jace’s stern glare tells you there is nothing funny about this. ‘’Just be careful, Y/N. That’s all I ask.’’ And you nod, obedient as a good girl would. But your gaze kept stealing peaks at the forbidden prince, however.

This is part one, for now.

I hope you all liked it

Its different than what i usually write.

Reblogs/comments are welcome!:))

[kyokutsu-sama]

Crossing the line

"You're the one who started it all, don't forget that"| kenpachi x reader Tw: smut (It's kenpachi so you already know what it's about) I have a lot of things on my mind about this man and I need to write them. I hope you like this one

-------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, I think it's all here. Do you need anything else sir?"- You asked

"No, you can go Y/n and by the way I'm sorry if you come here so late"- Byakuya said while putting away the papers that were on the table

"No problem, it’s fine. Have a good night captain"- you said goodbye and left the office

"Where did you say she went?"- The eleventh division captain changed his expression after hearing his third seat

"Y/n is in the sixth division, she had to go there and deliver some of the papers you asked me to handle"- Ikkaku kept a trembling voice after noticing that his captain didn't seem very happy

"And why didn't you go there instead of her when you were the one who had this task?"

"Because... Because I... because Yumichika and I have been training until now and besides, she also told us not to worry about it because she would take care of it herself. Captain, could you explain to me why you always get like that when does she approach sixth division captain?"

"First of all, shut your irresponsible mouth and secondly, I already warned you and the others to take care of that noble idiot's business. Keep Y/n away from him, you hear?"- Kenpachi got up from his chair and went towards the exit

Ikkaku shuddered when the captain slammed the door shut so hard it that made everyone hear. He knew a storm was coming, but it wasn't just for him.

As soon as you set foot in the eleventh division, you saw him with his arms crossed in front of the barracks door. You could guess that he already knew where you had gone, you sighed and continued walking towards him. You tried to walk past him as calmly as you could, but he grabbed your arm making you stop immediately. He was silent for a while and it was during that moment that you realized the tension was building and you could barely breathe.

"Where did you go?"- he asked in a slightly gruff voice.

"I went to take care of some business"

"With the captain of the sixth division?"

"Yeah, why? Are you jealous because I visited your rival?"- you curved your lips in a smile and looked at him while his eyes seemed to burn

He kept looking at you and you pulled your arm of his grip and made your way right after. He turned around and lifted you to his shoulder as he walked towards his bedroom.

"Hey put me down you..."

"You what?- he entered the room and put you on the floor in a brutal way

You looked at him with a teasing expression, your breathing was already starting to get a little panting. The air now felt much more tense than before.

"When are you going to stop acting like that? Are you really willing to compete with that idiot until the end of your days?"

"I don't waste my time with opponents like him unless those opponents take what's mine"

"Really ? I don't remember you owning me so..."

He slammed the bedroom door and approached you causing you to close your eyes for a moment after his huge body was almost covering you. You could already tell his spiritual pressure was starting to get out of control.

He said as he placed his strong hands on your thighs lifting you and pushing your body against the bedroom window. You prayed that no one would pass by outside or they would probably see a lot of things they didn't want. His lips started down from your ear to your neck, causing some shivers all over your body. Defying him like that was a dangerous game.

"Kenny... We're not going to do this in front of the window, are we?"- you said as he kissed all over your neck

"Yeah you're right, we should be doing this in Kuchiki's office, it would have more emotion"- he said laughing against your lips

"He would kill us if he caught us"

"Tch ! If he tries anything, you can be sure I'd cut him in half without hesitation"

"Wow, that sounds kinda romantic and sadistic at the same time" - you laughed

His hands rushed to take your clothes off as he kissed you abruptly and bitting your lips, you could have sworn you would pass out right there due to the way his lips took your breath away. You removed his kimono which slipped off his broad shoulders and fell to the floor. You ran your hands over the bare skin of his skin leaving some red lines. The distance between you two at that moment was almost zero, both bodies were so close and needing each other, your hand went up to grabbed his long black hair while the other held his strong and muscular arm.

You let out little moans when he left dark marks on your skin, he held your body with just one arm while the other hand was sliding through your completely soaked folds. His fingers went in and out of you making you arch your back, your nails dug into the flesh of his bicep as you felt his fingers go deeper and deeper.

"Tell me who makes you like this"- he whispered in your ear

"It's you... Ken-pachi"- you groaned

You felt your legs shake and your eyes roll as his fingers continued to penetrate you, your insides tightening around his fingers more and more until you came on them. He withdrew his fingers and licked them to taste you, you looked up at him with your breathless and flushed face. He brought his hand to the waistband of the hakama and lowered it freeing his large cock. You shuddered as it touched the inside of your thigh and then your throbbing and dripping slit.

He held it and placed it inside of you without hiding the smirk after seeing the way you lean your head against the window glass and moaning his name as his hands gripped the flesh of your thighs. He didn't hold back from the moment he entered you, you hugged his body close to yours so you could feel even more the heat that his skin gave off.

He was being merciless with you for stepping into "enemy territory", however you were loving having him that way even though you were still a little afraid that someone could see you because of the big window behind you. He just wanted everyone to know that you were his and that he was the one making you feel that way. He withdrew from you and when you felt your feet on the floor for a moment, he turned your back to him and entered you again making you lean your head while one of his hands held your hips and the other arm was around your neck.

You grabbed his arm trying to release the grip a little so you could breathe as you held yourself against the glass with your other hand, the way his body was hitting you from behind fast and hard, made you roll your eyes and open your mouth to begging for more. You couldn't deny that it was making you feel so good that you could barely describe how you were feeling at that moment.

"Let them know...let all of know who's fucking you like that. Let them know this is the dick you're begging for"- he said pushing even harder

You didn't repress any of your moans, everything you felt was being heard by him and probably by the entire division. His arm let go of your neck and pulled your hair causing you to tilt your head against his chest so that he could bend over you and kiss your lips. His hands went down your body and groped your whole body since your hips to your breasts while you felt your legs tremble and your vision was slightly blurred, his fingers slid to your sensitive bud making you feel shivers.

His touch, the heat, the room filled with moans and the sound of bodies hitting each other as he was kissing you rough, all of this was making you closer and closer to come. He kept going even deeper feeling your insides tighten around him more and more, he couldn't deny that it was driving him crazy too.

"Kenny...ahh I'm so close"-you moaned

"Come, come on my cock now"

His voice sounded so deep and full of desire at that moment, you barely resisted and ended up coming, squirting down his length. His arms held your body against the window preventing you from falling due to exhaustion, yet he was still thrusting into you.

"Kenpachi... p-please, that's too much"

"You're the one who started it all, don't forget that" - he placed a hand on the glass beside your head as he slowed down the thrusts. You could already feel the warm liquid of him filling you up until it were dripping out of your folds.

He stopped the movements but continued behind you holding your body, you were exhausted, he really pushed you to the limit. Your legs were shaking so much that if it weren't for his arms holding you, you would have fallen sooner.

"I need to lay down... my legs are shaking"- you said making him laugh

"At least now you can't go too far"- he said picking you up and putting you on the bed lying down next to you

"So you were doing it on purpose so I wouldn't visit your stupid rival?"

"I warned you that I would punish you if you went there"

You couldn't help but smile, he hugged you close to his chest and you looked at him a little surprised by the sudden movement after you were almost suffocating against him.

"Kenny, I'm running out of air" - you squirmed in his arms

"Stop fidgeting and complaining then”- he said, releasing his grip a little.

You sighed and closed your eyes to try to fall asleep, arguing with him was a losing game.

[barbatusart]

how do you make your art so expressive and fluid-looking? do you have a technique or is it just how you've trained your hand? I try to get my figures more fluid but they always look so stiff! even practicing figure drawings...maybe because you draw so fast that helps? idk man...any advice? thank you!

thank you first off for such a compliment!!! fluidity & shape are the things i prize most in visual art to the point where ive given up gunning for "correctness" in favor of chasing the preservation of motion lol. gonna put my response and my Full Visual Art Journey to where i am now under the cut as it's an image-heavy one and a bit long winded (shocking for me to be long winded i know LOL)

so i absolutely used to have the exact same problem many years ago of my stuff being too stiff, ie my sketch would be loose and fun but my inks would be nervous & tight & not as fun to look at as the sketch

this is a super old thing from 2011 when i was still on my anatomy journey (you can tell cus the sternum and nose are, uh, interesting LOL) but you can kinda see what i mean - the sketch underneath is fun & has movement as sketches do, but these little fineliner inks are so visually Nervous. the issue for me at the time was that i was subconsciously exactly that: nervous of messing the picture up, and that fear of making a mistake telegraphed loud & clear to my inks. using fineliner tools 100% did not help me either, as microns & the like have little to no "give" to them; you put the pen to paper and you get what you get, and you have to sit there & meticulously build the line up to get any kind of lineweight.

i was ultra dissatisfied with my output so i made 2 changes a few years after this: i stopped doing pencil sketches and started just doing straight inks, and i swapped to a brushpen

these are from 2012 or so & some of the first things i did in straight brushpen inks with no pencil, and theyre a total mess but they are LOOSE AND FUN! i had 100% no idea what i was doing with the brushpen and had no control over it because i was so used to the thin lines pencil & microns gave me, so everything i made was sloppy & out of control as i was struggling to keep control of the tool, but honestly it was absolutely freeing for me. now i had the looseness of the sketch right there at the forefront. the issue was though, how could i get enough control of the brushpen to make something that wasnt so messy? even if i had freedom, if i got too wacky with it, itd just turn into a black ink mess. i was completely done with pencils at this point and didn't want to go back & risk losing this looseness & freedom, and then i realized like - what if i just do my straight ink sketch like this & then figure out a way to go back in & "carve" into it to clean it?

enter the next tool in the arsenal, the white gel pen. this was my first experiment with it & it was legitimately a complete game changer, because now i could slop on my inks as much as i wanted & go right back in with the gel pen & literally carve out the black lines to as crisp as i pleased while still preserving the motion & energy of the ink sketch. i noticed even with tons of layers of gel too there was no way to fully get rid of the ghost outline of my corrections, so at this stage i leaned into that quality even harder & changed from white paper to exclusively brown

at this point i wanted to showcase loud & clear to myself exactly what i was cleaning up, i LOVED how this looked. i even went a step further & got some really translucent red ink for a second brush pen (had to fill the cartridges with the red ink manually in the sink lol) so i could do an even sloppier red sketch underneath, half precise slop on black ink on top of it, clean it up with the gel, go back in with the black, forever and ever and ever

and like this was an absolute physical mess of material but it was beyond fun. id completely given up on anything being clean or correct, because i could always clean it & correct it & have a blast showcasing the journey of start to finish as preserved in the materials. i basically gave myself permission to like, be imperfect, treat inks like clay, & draw with complete abandon like a kid again

eventually utrecht stopped making the kind of brown paper i loved (these brown paper books were HEAVY DUTY & could take so much punishment, when i was done with a book id legit flip it over & start drawing on the backs of the pages) & then all the available material physically couldnt handle the amount of medium i was putting on my pages, like legit the paper itself was just ripping & dissolving lmao. so at this stage i got an ipad (i could never wrap my head around a tablet & not looking at my hand and the tool touching the artwork) & pivoted from trad to digital in like uhhhh 2018ish & just did the exact same techniques of slopping inks down, carving with the eraser, going back in with the inks, carving more with the eraser, and so on. and now since it was digital & i never had to worry about my paper literally melting underneath my brushes LOL i could just go forever on one thing

early attempts while learning the new medium in my fury road era

tail end of the SAD SACK roughs in like 2019ish (SAD SACK really was what got me locked in with my digital technique & how i wanted to attack it)

tail end of the SORTIE roughs from like 2021, at this stage i think my style got so fuckin crazy because i wasnt worried about my pages getting destroyed anymore so im like Violent with the ipad lmao, that & it got Really fast bcus since i wasnt bothering with correct anymore & had no medium-being-destroyed barrier i could just gunshot-speed get these down

and then most recently DE RERUM NATURA from like january of this year which i think showcases what im currently doing pretty accurately

this got long whoops lol POINT IS: i dont worry about being correct (because i can fix it later), i dont worry about being neat (because i can clean it later), and i skip the sketch stage entirely by slop-inking & eraser-carving interchangeably, which lets me fix and clean all i want while preserving the energy & action of the first marks. plus, going straight inks all the time i think trained my hand & eye to A. put down the marks i want correctly in the General Space of where i want them, and B. do it faster & faster lol

after all this my advice to you is this: swap to a new tool! try a brush, try paint, try a medium you have no control over but something that forces you to improvise and remember whats so fun in the first place about making a mess on your canvas of choice. remember that any mark you make, you can tweak, fix, carve, shove around, whatever. i think a lot of people get stuck in the rules they have set for themselves with art (i know i did!) and we tend to forget that there are no rules. try & remember that feeling of being little & just going wild on paper without any care whatsoever about being Right. go for it, because you can always tweak it - even inks arent permanent 🤓

[imeanwhynotbruv]

Missing

Summary: Billy gets a phone call about his younger brother Vance. Max sees Billy on the phone, she knows something’s up but she just can’t figure out what.

Tw: implied child abuse, mentioned kidnapping. It’s a Stranger Things & Black Phone crossover. You know what you’re in for.

“Get Billy to take you, might as well make himself useful” Neil said from where he sat at the table, not bothering to look up from his news paper.

Max rolled her eyes as she turned away. She didn’t want to ask Billy. That was the point. He’d be an ass about it, he always was and she just didn’t want to deal with it today.

But she really really wanted to go to the arcade.

Max sighed as she headed towards Billy’s room, dragging her feet against the carpet to try and delay the inevitable confrontation.

“I can’t talk right now, my dad’s home” Max heard Billy’s voice through the slightly open door and rolled her eyes. She only just noticed the land line stretching into his room from its place on the wall, he was probably talking to a girl and didn’t want someone overhearing.

“Lisa, I can’t understand you” Billy groaned, Max could see him pinch the bridge of his nose as she pushed his door further open.

So it was a girl. Great. Just great.

“Calm down, just tell me what happened or I have to go” Billy huffed, obviously wanting the call to end. Max almost wondered what was about, totally not because she cared or anything, she was just..bored, yeah bored. Maybe the dumbass had got a girl pregnant. Would serve him right. It’d suck for the girl though. Just as Max was about to loudly voice her thought, Billy demeanour changed sharply.

His back snapped upright, his muscles tensed and a frown she hadn’t seen before began to form on his face.

“Missing? What do you mean missing?” Was that panic? No. It couldn’t be, that would mean Billy would have to care about something other than himself. She was probably imagining it.

“Lisa! What happened!?” Billy’s hand fisted tightly in his hair, Max winced at the sight of it but Billy didn’t seem to react.

“From the start!” Billy demanded, his voice higher than she was used too.

Billy wiped his mouth as he listened to the reply, his breathing was slow and heavy. Max could swear she heard his breath tremble.

“Four months!? You waited four months to tell me he was missing!?” Billy yelled, the panic in his voice was undeniable now.

Who was missing? Max couldn’t help as her frown deepened.

“Of course you should have told me! Why the hell did you wait that long!?” Billy’s voice was strangled as his hand buried itself in his hair again, tugging harshly at his blonde curls as Max watched silently from the doorway.

“Fuck Neil! Fuck that too! You shouldn’t have waited a week! Let alone- no! I don’t care! Are they still looking? Do they- really- when was- are there any leads” Billy released his hair, only to bite down on his nails.

Max had never seen him do that before.

Ever.

“He wouldn’t leave that behind. If he’d run away he would have taken it! He would have called me- yes I’m sure! He knows I would have-“ Billy cut himself off, his breathing ragged. Max could see his knuckles were white.

“I’m sure Lisa” Billy’s voice was hard, completely confident in his answer.

“Did they check the forest?…..the river?” Billy’s voice was suddenly quiet. Max almost felt sick to her stomach when she realised what he meant.

She refused to acknowledge her quiet sigh of relief she let out just moments after Billy’s own.

“What’s their other option then?” Billy asked impatiently.

“Tell me! It was supposed to be safe! What could’ve fucking happ-!?” Billy demanded, his voice bordering on frantic.

“Grabber?” Max frowned as she mouthed the word to herself, watching the way Billy’s face contorted as he said the word. What the hell was a grabber?

“Kidn- shit. He wouldn’t have gone easy. We both know that. He would’ve-“ Billy’s breathing sped up.

Wait what? No. She was just misunderstanding. It wouldn’t be that.

“If that’s what- fuck. There’s gotta be something. No one saw anything? How!?- we both know- exactly!- he wouldn’t have gone quietly, nothing he does is quiet!” Billy let out a pained excuse for a laugh. It was closer to hysterical than it was happy

“Oh. Yeah-that. That would-“ Max really wanted to know what was being said, the suspense was killing her.

“Other kids? How- how many? And they were all- they fo-.. how many are-...“ Billy went deathly pale. He looked moments away from keeling over and throwing up then and there. Max’s hand gripped her hoodie, right above her nauseous stomach.

“ but that can’t be the-“ Billy eyes looked glazed over.

Neither of them made a peep as Billy listened to the phone.

“So nothing. Four fucking months and they have nothing.” Billy pressed his palm to his face as his shoulder trembled.

“They have to- they have to find him. If they don’t I’ll- no. They’ll find him. He’ll be- he’ll be fine.” Max had never seen Billy look so small, honestly? It scared her.

He was supposed to be this big cocky, angry asshole. Not this. Not whatever the hell this was. It was wrong. So wrong in a way she didn’t know she could feel if it didn’t have anything to do with monsters. So very wrong.

“Okay. Okay yeah. You’ll call right? If they find anything? Even if it’s a fucking sock call me. Don’t wait just call me. If I don’t answer then call again. As many times as you have to” Billy’s voice soft, yet somehow the desperate demand behind his words was still loud and clear in Max’s ears.

It seemed like the person, Lisa, agreed and hung up not too long after if Billy’s mumbled goodbye was anything to go by.

Billy hung his head, his blonde curls draped over his face blocking him from her view. He pressed the phone against his forehead as his free hand wrapped itself tightly into hair, winding it around his fingers as he harshly tugged at it once.

Max should hear his quiet shaking breaths.

She didn’t know what to do.

If it has been one of her friends sure, but this was Billy. This was different.

Things were always different when it came to Billy.

But, as she listened to him slowly control his breathing, she knew she had to do something.

Just to make it stop. To make it normal again.

“Billy?” Max said hesitantly, her hand wrapping around the doorframe tightly as she leaned in.

Billy’s head snapped up, his eyes locked onto hers.

She felt sick.

Billy looked empty.

Like someone had reached deep inside of him and ripped everything out. His face was blank, eye void of anything as he looked at her. As he looked through her.

She watched as he hardened. As he wrapped himself in something different, something harsher. She barely managed to get out of the way before he stormed past her, slamming the phone back into its place in the hallway as he headed for the table.

Max followed behind him quickly, a worried frown on her face as she saw him stop in front of Neil.

Neil didn’t seem to take notice of his son. Didn’t seem to care.

“He’s missing” Billy’s voice was harsh. She’d never heard him speak to his dad that way before, even when he was pissed. Max could see as her mother tensed up by the sink but she didn’t pay it any mind.

Neil stiffened at the tone, he closed his newspaper as he looked up at Billy with hardened eyes.

“Whatever do you mean?” Max wanted to shiver at his voice, Billy didn’t react.

“Vance. He’s missing” Billy’s hands balled into fists as Neil harshly slammed his hand against the table.

“Don’t say that name” Neil warned, his eyes boring into Billy’s head.

So Neil knew who Billy was talking about then, Max’s confusion only continued to grow. She was certain neither of them had ever mentioned him before.

“Vance. Is. Missing.” Billy’s eyes remained locked on his father, his voice angry and challenging in away she hadn’t ever heard him use in the house.

“Lisa says they think he’s been kidnapped” Billy bit out.

“I told you know to talk to that damn woman!” Neil snapped as he rose to his feet.

“That’s what you care about!?” Billy yelled in outrage.

“I will not have you disobey me! I will not have you sneaking around talking to that whore when I forbid you to!” Neil stood in front of Billy.

“Kidnapped. What part of that do you not understand!?!” Billy demanded as he stood closer. Max saw her mother flinch out of the corner of her eye, but she had bigger problems to deal with.

“You will respect my word” Neil ordered, Max ignored her mother was the woman hesitantly came closer.

“Vance is your-!?” Billy snapped, only to be cut off as his father pushed right up close into his personal space.

“Enough William!” Neil yelled inches from his son’s face. Max almost missed Billy’s flinch, missed the way his back stiffened up and his hands jerked where they lay down his sides.

Billy didn’t back down.

“Maxine. Go wait in the car. Billy will be with you in a moment” Neil ordered, his eyes never straying from where they were trying to melt through his son’s head.

Max jumped slightly, surprised at suddenly being acknowledged.

She almost wanted to protest until her mother spoke up.

“Go ahead Max, I’ve put a little extra in here for you” Susan said softly as she held out a small purse, never once looking at the father and son duo as she smiled encouragingly at her daughter.

Max could tell it was fake. Even if she’d been a mile away she would have been able to tell. But she could see her mother’s silent pleading as she held out the purse.

Max sighed internally as she hesitantly took it from her mother, receiving a kiss on her head as she was ushered out the door.

Max leaned against the passenger door of the Camaro as she waited. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as she thought about what she’d heard.

Billy knew someone named Vance, who has apparently been kidnapped. Who Neil also apparently knows and has told Billy not to talk about. But why would Neil do that? Who was Vance?

Billy finally came out a while later. Max wasn’t exactly sure how long but she knew it’d taken a good chuck of time.

She watched silently as he pulled open the door and slammed it behind him once he was in, pressing his head against the side of his door as he waited for her.

As soon as she’d buckled her seatbelt in Billy was out of the driveway and headed down the road without saying a word, without acknowledging her presence in any way shape or form.

Max kept sneaking glances at him when she could, noticing the redness in his neck around his collar, the bruise forming on his temple just peaking out of his hairline. The blood on his lip that hadn’t been there before.

She didn’t know what to do. She felt confused and small and had not idea what to say or do to fix it so she sunk lower into her seat.

It was Billy who eventually broke the silence.

A strange strangled noise left his throat that had Max turning to look at him.

He’d pulled his lip into his mouth and bitten it, his brows were pulled together and his eyes were damp as he sniffed.

Max wasn’t sure what to do when Billy suddenly pulled off to the side and parked his car.

“Fuck!” Billy yelled as he slammed his hand against the steering while, Max jump slightly in surprise.

Billy didn’t look at her a her pushed his door open and stumbled out, not bothering to close it behind him. Max scrambled after him.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!” Billy screamed as he hit his car roof repeatedly. His palm slapping loudly against the metal as Max watched warily from the side.

She was so far out of her depth it wasn’t even funny.

Billy went quiet as he pressed his face into the blue paint, the only part of him that moved was his shaking shoulders.

Eventually Billy collapsed to the floor, leaning his back against his car as he pulled his knees up and buried his head between them.

His shoulders continued to shake as he cried silently into his legs.

Max slowly crept closer until she reached his side, Billy didn’t so much as huff as she slid down to sit next to him.

Max kept her eyes on the trees as she silently sat next to her step brother as he cried to himself. Keeping him company in a way neither of them wanted to admit to.

Eventually the muffled noises stopped, Billy leaned his head back against his car with his red rimmed eyes closed. Max looked at him carefully.

This was so different to the Billy she knew. To the annoying asshole that lived with her. He wasn’t angry here. He wasn’t being a prick for no reason and yelling at her. He just looked like a teenager. Like some boy who was just as far out of his comfort zone as she was.

He just looked sad.

He was nothing like the bully she knew, so maybe she could ask him something she’d never have dared to ask him before.

“Billy…who’s Vance?” Max asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Billy turned to look a her, his eyes glassy and sad as he just watched her for a moment. Max was almost sure he wasn’t going to answer her. She was gearing up to ask him again before he sighed through his nose and shook his head to himself.

Billy turned to the open door of his car and pulled out an envelope with yellowed edges from beneath his seat before hand handed it to her.

Billy leaned back and watched the trees as Max hesitantly opened it and pulled out the first photo.

Two blue eyed little boys with blond curls were grinning up at her. Max turned to Billy in confusion.

“Vance Hopper” Billy said quietly, his voice thick.

He turn to look her in the eyes.

“My little brother”

[chiefdirector]

Looking | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21

“Sargent Grey,” Lopez called, trying to catch up with the watch commander, “I had a look at the footage from the main lobby. No I.D. Just seemed like some kid doing an errand, paper boy maybe.”

He stopped in the corridor, brushing his hand over his face in frustration. “Right, okay. Go tell Detective Bradford, liaise with her. See if you can help in any way.”

“Already have. She said that she’s on the phone with a handwriting analysis. Run it through the database and records corresponding to anyone with the initials R.D.”

“That’ll take forever,” 

Angela hummed. “Not exactly. This analysis guy said the writing was female. Already cuts the search in half. It was also in cursive, so we can make the initial assumption that the sender has some form of formal education, if not they are highly intelligent. That’s not too many ‘R.D’’s left to determine. (Y/N)’s also sent it out for prints, see if we can get a hit that way.”

“Good work Lopez,” Grey said, starting to move towards his office again. “Let me know if you find anything. And tell Detective Bradford to stop leaving her damn coffee cups in my office.”

Angela laughed, turning to go back to the detective's bullpen. “Yes, sir.”

----------

Tim and Lucy go back to his house to try to find the location of the picture taker. And any info. Lucy questions tim on their relationship 

Lucy looked intently out of the shop window as Tim drove towards his home. He had been so strict on keeping his personal life out of his professional one, but there was something about this boot in particular that seemed to worm her way in everytime. There was something about Chen that made Tim feel comfortable sharing details, no matter how minute they were. Perhaps it was her forever optimistic nature, or the fact that if it weren’t for her, he probably never would have found (Y/N).

 At one point, he had thought about thanking her but he also knew that Chen was well aware of his gratefulness; and that she would never let him live it down if he did thank her. She was like him in that way, he saw a lot of himself in her. Tim knew that she would go far, she just needed a little guidance to get there.

“So this is where you live, hm?” Chen said, breaking the silence that had resided in the shop for the last ten minutes. “Nice neighbourhood. Seems a little out of a cops price range though…”

“Are you really judging my financial status right now, boot?” Tim snapped, although the sting in his voice was barely there. She was right, it was far too pricey for his, or (Y/N)’s, salary. Even if they were combined they would have no chance of getting a mortgage for this area of L.A. 

“No, no. It’s just that this area is nice. Like nice nice. Not Kardashian nice but like you know.”

“Someone was murdered in our house, three actually.” Tim smiled, deciding to ease up on Chen somewhat, afterall, he knew that Lucy would ask his wife and (Y/N) never spared any detail in this particular story. “We both worked the scene together. Managed to get the price lowered somewhat. Only had to change the floorboards and get a couple drywall boards replaced. Drenched in blood.”

Lucy swallowed at the information, nodding along. She turned to look out at the surroundings again as Tim pulled over to the side of the road. “All these houses have a driveway?” She pointed out.”

“And?” He said, turning the engine off and getting out of the car. Slamming the door behind him, he opened his phone, pulling up the copy of the photo (Y/N) had sent him and moving to the approximate place the photo was taken. 

He ended up halfway into his neighbour’s front lawn. The exact spot would have been covered by shrubbery lining the edge of the grass, it would explain why they didn’t catch a glimpse of their paparazzo this morning. 

“Chen,” Tim moved from his position on his neighbour’s lawn crossing the road towards his home. Calling back towards Chen as he moved, knowing that she would be following him, “Come on, we’re going inside. I need to call Grey, let him know that there’s nothing here.”

“Inside? Like inside your home? I get to see where you live.” Lucy babbled on with excitement. If someone had told her on her first day that she would be invited into Officer Bradford’s home, she would have laughed in their face. “Oh my god. I get to see how you decorate, this is so cool! I need to tell Jackson.”

“I can leave you outside if you carry on.” Tim unlocked the door, letting himself in. He held it from the inside letting Chen make her choice. 

“Shutting up.”

----------

(Y/N) hung the phone up, moving to continue typing up the current additions to the case report. Her fingers practically slammed into the keys as she typed, annoyance flowing through her. Since she left Grey’s office, she had gotten nowhere. No matter who she called, nobody seemed to know anything about who was after her. 

It was infuriating, to be so powerless. Knowing that her life hung in The hands of some mad man that she didn’t even know the name of would cause most anyone to spiral but she knew that she couldn’t afford to lose focus now, not after how far she had come. 

Holding back a sigh, she saved the file and reached for her phone. Quickly, she pressed Tim’s contact and held it up to her ear, listening as it rang and rang and rang until she reached his voicemail. She hung up before she could leave a message and went back to typing. Only stopping when she heard something placed down beside her. 

“Your coffee.” 

(Y/N) looked up, seeing Chen standing beside her. She smiled, picking up the travel mug and taking a sip. 

“Tim asked me to drop it off. He made it when we went to see if there was anything to see back at your place.” Chen leaned against the desk to the right hand side of (Y/N)’s. “He also said to tell you that his phone was nearly dead. He’s charging it now.”

“Ah okay cool.” (Y/N) took another sip, relishing in the warm vanilla taste. Tim always made the coffee in the mornings, recently he had begun making her lattes with flavoured syrups. Vanilla was her favourite, despite how often Tim said it was the most basic option. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, actually. There is. I wanted to ask you something…”

“Shoot.” 

“I want to do some UC work after my rookie year. I think that’s where I could really thrive and I wanted to know…”

(Y/N) nodded, finishing Chen’s sentence. “If it would be a good fit. Well as someone who has done it, I think it takes a certain kind of person to be able to do it. Personally, I would never do any more long term assignments. I don’t think I’m that person anymore. I lost everything, and I’m still fighting to get it back.” She sighed, placing her coffee down on the desk. 

(Y/N) gestured for Chen to pull up a chair before she continued. “Obviously you’re still a rookie, and I haven’t seen much of you in action. You have got some way to go. But you have that spark and if it’s what you want, I could see if I could take you one day. Show you the ropes, go through some old cases of mine. Let you get the feel for it.”

“Really? That would be great.” Lucy beamed at Bradford’s words. 

“But you will have to consider if it will be worth it. Look at the mess we’re all in because of me. If I hadn’t gone on that assignment than-”

“Then it would be someone else that Regina would have gotten revenge on.” Tim interrupted, walking over to the two women. He quickly reached for the coffee on the desk, not allowing (Y/N) the time to slap his hand away before he got a sip. “But the theory was right. It definitely wasn’t Regina.”

(Y/N) looked up inquisitively at her husband as he spoke. 

“The handwriting analyst made a match throughout the system. I don’t know who but Lopez is getting the report now. She’ll be here soon. Grey wants us all in the conference room.”

Chapter 21 | Chapter 23

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Tags are open :)

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 9

You've found a new normal in your life in the QZ. Then it all changes. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-8, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Length: 4K

Warnings: Nothing major this time but the whole fic is VERY 18+ so minors? DNI :) Mention of past miscarriage. No use of Y/N

Sunday, October 5, 2008 - Five Years Later 

You’d purposely filled up your Sunday. It wasn’t a day you wanted to think about. Having even a few minutes alone sounded awful. Your birthday had always been hell since the outbreak and you needed anything to keep your mind busy. You wished it was just Monday already. Mondays were long days. Sundays, you had to work at it. 

You got an early start, waking up at 6 a.m. and putting on a Joni Mitchell CD you’d found a few weeks back. You’d traded a few ration cards for it, but it was worth it. You French braided your hair, putting ribbons on the ends. They matched the flowers you’d stitched to cover up the patches you’d made on your shirt. You always felt a bit better when you had ribbons and flowers around. You really needed that, on your birthday. 

Breakfast just sounded miserable, so you gathered up the cookies you’d made the night before - splitting them into two groups, the larger pile for the clinic and the smaller for Abe. You headed for the radio first. 

The line was always short on Sunday morning if you went first thing. There were only four people ahead of you when you got there. You normally let your mind wander while you waited, or brought a book, but you’d been so busy trying to distract yourself that morning, you’d left your book sitting next to your bed. Instead, you eavesdropped. 

The person who was in with Abe when you got there had been communicating regularly with their sister in Kansas City. The sister had news about a man she’d been seeing. It sounded good. You smiled a little. It was nice when the radio brought good news. There was so little to be had anymore. 

Abe stepped into the hall where you were waiting to grab the next person and noticed you in line. 

“Sweets!” He smiled, jerking his head at you. “You’re up.” 

“Come on, man!” The man two people ahead of you snapped. “I’ve been waiting!” 

“Start bringing me cookies every week, you can jump the line, too,” Abe snapped. “Sweets doesn’t have to wait.” 

“It’s fine, really…” you began, but Abe cut you off. 

“You don’t wait,” he said. “C’mon.” 

You smiled apologetically at the people in line ahead of you and followed Abe into the radio room, closing the door behind you. You gave him his cookies, wrapped in paper and twine. He opened them, wriggling his fingers at the small pile. 

“I don’t know how you make oatmeal cookies so damn good,” he said, grabbing one and taking a bite, closing his eyes in pleasure. “But damn, do you ever.” 

“Brown the butter,” you smiled. 

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means,” he said. “That’s why you don’t have to wait. What do you need, Sweets? The usual?” 

You nodded. He licked the crumbs off his fingers. 

“I can tell you right now, there’s no news,” he said. “Everyone knows who to look out for…” 

“I know,” you smiled. “But can you double check for me? Need the list?” 

“Sweets, it’s been five years,” he smiled sadly at you. “I don’t need the list.” 

He started, as always, at the Dallas QZ. 

“Howdy Dallas, hope you’re having a good Sunday,” he said. “Got my usual. Looking to see if you’ve had any new arrivals by the name Joel Miller, Sarah Miller or Thomas Miller. Those three would likely all be together. Also looking for a Cassandra Wilson and a Joshua Trumble.” He was silent for a moment. You heard a crackle of sound from his headphones. “What about folks matching those descriptions?” 

He rattled off ages, general appearances. There was a short crackle. He just shook his head at you and moved on to Atlanta. 

It didn’t take him long to get through all the QZs. There was nothing. You weren’t surprised, but you were always a little let down all the same. You held out the ration cards you traded him but he just looked at them. You frowned for a second. 

“Did the price change?” You asked. “I can get more, I have some saved…” 

“It doesn’t…” he sighed, looking at you. “I don’t know that I can keep taking your money, Sweets.” 

“I promise you can,” you smiled. “I hold it out, you put it in your hand, done deal.” 

“You’ve been here twice a week, every week, for five years,” his eyes were sad. “Everyone in the country knows who you’re looking for. If they were out there, we’d have found them. I’m sorry, I think it’s time that…” 

“You’re sweet to worry,” you cut him off. “But I know them. They just… haven’t made it to a QZ yet, that’s all. Joel and Tommy and Sarah especially. They’re probably… I don’t know, living off the land somewhere. They’ll probably end up at a QZ eventually for some reason, right? I’ll find them when they do.” 

You held the cards out, more insistently this time. He sighed and took them. 

“Thanks, Abe,” you smiled. “Muffins Wednesday?” 

“You spoil me, Sweets.” 

The clinic was just opening for the day when you got there, Andrew camped out behind the front desk. You frowned. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked. “You don’t work Sundays.” 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, not looking at you. “Figured I’d work this Sunday.” You sighed. He met your eyes. “You doing OK?” “Don’t know what you mean,” you smiled tightly, handing him the paper-wrapped package of cookies. “Can you make sure these get around to everyone? I don’t want to bring them home with me…” 

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because anyone ever turns down your baking.” 

You smiled a little, drumming your hands on the desk for a moment before heading into the back to set your bag down and grab your supplies for the day. 

When you’d gotten to the QZ almost five years ago to the day, you’d been a mess. Andrew had been the only reason you’d made it alive. The miscarriage had taken a turn. You’d needed him to find abortive medications at a pharmacy to finish it which, thankfully, had been left on the shelves in the midst of other looting. You survived the sepsis because you’d grabbed the antibiotics a few days earlier and you recognized the signs. 

Intake had been rough. You were covered in blood. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to change. They searched your body over and over. Andrew had been screaming from the next bed but you couldn’t remember what he’d been yelling. You weren’t sure if you ever known. It took a day or two before you were able to really communicate anything with the powers that be in what became the QZ. 

The second they heard you had a degree in biology, had been finishing up a pre-med degree and had started studying for medical school, they sent a military doctor in to talk to you. 

“Still interested in becoming a doctor?” He asked, arms crossed. It was a harder question to answer than it should have been. Were you interested in anything anymore? 

“Yes,” you said eventually. “But I don’t exactly think the MCATs are still happening.” 

“We desperately need doctors,” he said. “I’ll train you. It’ll be hard, med school on steroids, because we need people now. At the moment, we have me and not much else.” 

“How?” You frowned. “This is Boston. There’s Harvard, there’s…” 

“Almost no one made it out of there,” he shook his head. “We need you. I can train you.” 

You thought for a second. 

“OK.” 

Dr. Elias had loaded you down with texts almost immediately, giving you assigned reading and having you shadow him at every opportunity. You were stitching wounds closed in a matter of days. Removing an appendix in a year.

More doctors had arrived at the QZ over time but, by then, you were one of them. You’d never have the degree - not that a piece of paper meant a damn thing in the apocalypse - but you were a doctor. It was the first time you’d felt really satisfied since summer, 2003. The day Dr. Elias told you that you didn’t need to shadow him anymore, you had full privileges, Andrew took you for a drink at the speakeasy. You thought of when you graduated college, Joel toasting you with a bottle of real champagne - one from France - he’d gone out of his way to find. 

Sunday in the clinic kept you busy enough. You had a steady stream of patients, with everything from UTIs to stitches for a kid who jumped off some steps and cut their head open to a guy with syphilis whose symptoms had gotten so bad he finally decided to see someone. The day, mercifully, flew by, not leaving you much time to think. It was pushing 10 p.m. when you realized how tired you were. 

“Hey Teach,” Andrew called to you. “Got a few more for you.” 

“Seriously?” You leaned across the counter, your head down on the desk. “I’m getting too old for this. It’s too late in the day for this.” 

“You are not too old for this,” he teased. 

“I’m 30 now, Andrew,” you lifted your head and propped your chin on your fist. “I’m basically dead.” 

“They say that 30’s the new 20,” he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

“Nah, it’s the opposite in QZ years,” you said. “30 is the new 74. I’m an old woman, basically geriatric.” 

“If you don’t take these, you’re going to the bar with me,” he said. You glared at him. He shrugged. “These are your choices, Teach. Not going to let you just go home and be sad and old. You can be sad and old here or sad and old at the bar, pick your poison.” 

You sighed and held out your hand. 

“Gimme the charts.” 

He handed you two folders and you frowned. 

“You didn’t say it was intake,” you said, looking at the tag color. “I’m not… Come on, don’t make me euthanize anyone today.” 

“You really think I’d do that to you?” He asked. “They cleared that part already, they just need to be examined. Make sure they’re not too feral, sounds like they’ve never been to a QZ before so they might be rabid.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And I guess actually take care of people who haven’t had medical attention in five years,” he said. “That part, too.” 

“Your generation is the reason the world ended,” you said. “I’m convinced.” 

“I’m seven years younger than you, we’re the same shitty generation!” He leaned on the counter. “C’mon. Go treat the patients, then we can go get hammered. I think we need to get hammered. If you don’t want to go to the bar, I’ve got whiskey.” 

“Shitty whiskey.” 

“Does it matter?” 

You smiled a little. 

“It does not.” You sighed, cracking your neck before jogging in place for a second. “Alright, just two more and then this miserable day is officially over. Let’s get this across the finish line.” “Go, sports team!” He gave you a fist pump. You rolled your eyes and opened the top file. 

You almost fainted. 

“Where are they?” You asked. Your hands were shaking. You pulled your eyes from the file and looked at Andrew. “Where are they? What exam room, where are they? Andrew…” 

“They’re in 14, far end,” he said, his eyebrows knitting together. “What’s…” 

You dropped the file and started running. 

“Joel!” 

You were screaming, you couldn’t help it. Your legs couldn’t move fast enough. 

“Joel!” 

The door to the exam room on the far end opened and there he was. 

He was both exactly the same and so different. Still tall and broad and handsome, his hair still shaggy and curly, skin still golden tan. But he looked worn, like he’d been kicked a few too many times. He looked broken. It took him a second to register that he was looking at you. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, a moment of confusion, then disbelief, then he was running for you. 

You threw yourself against him and he caught you, his arms wrapping around you so tightly you thought he might break you in two and you didn’t care. You took what felt like your first full breath in five years. He didn’t smell like sawdust anymore but it was him. You were sobbing. 

“Joel,” you breathed. Your voice was wet, your fingers in his hair as you clung to him. 

“You’re alive,” he choked out. He sounded breathless. He held you so close. “You’re alive, I thought you were dead, I thought I lost you years ago…” 

He dropped to his knees and took you with him, pulling back from you just enough to look at you. His hands went from your body to your face, holding you gently, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. You held his arms, smiling so broadly it felt like your face might crack. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” his eyes searched your face, your hair, looking over every inch of you. “You’re alive…” 

“I’ve been searching for you,” you were shaking, your fingers running over his arms. “I’ve been calling every QZ twice a week every week looking for you, I knew I’d find you eventually, I knew I’d find you…” 

He pulled you back against him and you held onto him. His hand went to the back of your head, holding you close. Tommy emerged from the room, his eyes wide as he looked at you. “Kid,” he breathed, walking slowly to you and Joel, dropping to his knees next to you. He was blurry through your tears but you smiled and nodded as best you could while being held against his brother. “My God, I never thought I’d see you again…” 

“How long have you been here?” Joel pulled back from you again, his eyes searching your own. 

“Five years,” you said, laughing a little. “Almost to the day. We were on our way to Martha’s Vineyard and ran into… Actually, I’m not sure if they were actually FEDRA yet but whatever they were, we got rerouted to Boston. I’ve been here since.” 

You looked between Tommy and Joel and then frowned. 

“Where’s Sarah?” You asked, looking around. “They only gave me two intake files, did someone else take hers? Where’s Sarah?” 

Joel didn’t say anything but you’d never seen him in more pain. He looked like someone had cut open his chest and ripped his heart clean out. You knew. Immediately you knew. Your heart broke.

“Oh Joel,” you reached for his face but he jerked back from you. It was like he wasn’t even looking at you anymore. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

***

Tommy knew better than to say Sarah’s name. Joel hadn’t heard it in years. Sometimes, if he went long enough and had enough distractions, he was able to pretend that she was just somewhere else. That he and Tommy were at work and Sarah was safely at home with you. Just like before. Tommy didn’t bring up Sarah. 

So when you said her name, it wiped him out. In part because, for a moment, the fact that she was gone had left his mind. It was different than when he was distracted or it was the first moment when he woke up every day, before he remembered. The joy, the relief at finding you - alive and whole and well - had overwhelmed him so much that everything else just lived in a separate reality. A different plane of existence that contained everything bad that he’d ever done or had ever happened to him that he’d left behind for a moment. Hearing her name…. 

“Teach?” The man from the front desk knelt beside you, his hands going around your shoulders. “We need to find someone else to do this?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes not leaving Joel. You looked devastated. Like someone had gutted you. “Yeah, I can’t… Ethically, I can’t do this, I’m sorry…” 

The man tried to pull you away from Joel but he held onto you. You gave the man a glance and a single shake of your head and he backed off. 

“I’ll go find Lee,” he said, frowning and searching your face for a moment before he left. 

“Where have you been?” You asked Tommy more than Joel, glancing his way before looking back to Joel. “How have you survived this long outside a QZ?” 

Joel glanced at Tommy who looked back to him. A silent agreement to not tell you the truth of it. 

“Scavenging,” Tommy said after a moment. “Finding what we could where we could. Ended up trading with some smugglers in QZs. Heard Boston wasn’t too bad, relatively speaking. Decided to make our way up here.” 

Your eyes kept running over Joel’s face. You found the scar at his temple, your eyes lingering there. You cautiously reached your hand forward and traced it, lightly, before you held his cheek. His eyes met yours. 

“You’re here,” you breathed. Your eyes were still so sad. His hand covered yours. “That’s all that matters, you’re here.” 

“Mr. Miller? Both Mr. Millers,” A man came out of the back with the guy from the front desk. Joel glanced at him. “We’re going to get you two processed, you’ll have to come with me…” 

Joel tightened his grip on you. He couldn’t let you go, not now. Tommy tugged on his arm but Joel shrugged him off. 

“Mr. Miller,” the man said again. “We need you to come with us…” 

“C’mon,” the man from the desk put his hand on your arm, pulling you gently back from Joel. 

“Mr. Miller. You can see her again in just a few minutes…” 

“No,” Joel said sharply. 

“Joel,” your hand was still on his face. “It’s OK, I’m not going far and neither are you but there are checks we have to do when new people come to the QZ…” 

“Joel,” Tommy’s hands were on him now, too. “It won’t be long. Come on.” 

Joel pulled you against him one more time, holding you to him for a moment before pulling back from you. He let you go then, let the man lead him to a back room. He looked over his shoulder at you as the man from the front desk pulled you to your feet. 

“So that’s the dad…” he said quietly. 

“Yeah,” your voice cracked. He pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. Joel scowled at him before looking straight ahead, following Tommy and the other man. 

The other man introduced himself as Dr. Lee and started going over Joel with a fine toothed comb. Joel paid it very little mind. He could not care less, he just wanted to get back to you. Being this far from you made him uneasy. Like if you were out of his sight you’d vanish. He watched the door. He could just see the top of your head pressed to the chest of the man from the desk. He was holding you close. He kissed your hair. Joel ground his teeth. 

He still couldn’t believe it was you. You were here, you were alive - fucking alive. He’d mourned you, alongside… He’d felt it. Felt that he’d never see you again, that you were gone. 

It didn’t help that, at first glance, you were the same. Exactly the same. You still braided your hair to keep it out of your way, still put ribbons on the ends - he couldn’t remember the last time he saw a fucking ribbon - still put flowers on the broken things. You looked a bit older but he was sure that, if the world had been like it was before, you’d still have been getting carded every time you ordered a beer. You were still fucking beautiful, so goddamn beautiful. You could have stepped straight out of his memories, been a hallucination. At night, when he couldn’t stop them and he was overwhelmed by thoughts of Sarah and you, you looked almost the same as you did now. The only difference was your eyes. There was a haunted knowing in them now. Like you’d learned the secret of the world - that it was cold and cruel - and been left to reckon with it alone. 

“Can she come back in now?” Tommy’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, I can get her…” he went and opened the door. Addressed you as doctor. You all but ran inside, the other man close behind you. Joel glared at him. 

You, however, went straight for Joel, standing beside his exam table and reaching for him cautiously, like you weren’t sure he’d want you to touch him. Your eyes were red. He slipped your hand into his and your fingers laced with his own. He tugged you closer and your other hand went around his arm so that it was pressed against your torso. 

Dr. Lee addressed you. 

“You know the drill,” he began, but you shook your head. 

“Come on,” you said. “There has to be an exception we can use here, I don’t…” 

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head. 

“What?” Tommy asked. “What’s happening?” 

“You’ll need to stay in holding overnight,” the guy from the front desk said. He was watching you, not looking at Joel and Tommy at all. 

“That’s stupid,” you said. “They can stay with me, if anything got missed…” 

“You know we can’t do that,” Lee said. “It’s too dangerous, if there was a false negative read on the infection scanner you’d be dead.” 

“Please.” 

“It’s one night,” Lee said. “Elias would have my ass if he ever found out I let new intakes go home with you and I like being alive, thank you very much.” 

“It’s one night,” the front desk guy crossed his arms, looking at you. Joel wanted to snap him in half. 

“I’ll set you as their orientation liaison,” Lee said gently. “I’ll let the school know you won’t be in tomorrow. You can get them at 6 a.m.” 

“No,” Joel growled. 

“This isn’t the wild west, Mr. Miller,” Lee said. “There are ways things are done here. Best to start adjusting now. We’re going to take you back into holding…” 

“Can I get just two minutes?” You cut him off. “Please?” 

Lee looked between you and Joel. 

“Andrew stays too,” he said, leaving the room. The man from the front desk crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Joel. You didn’t seem to notice, instead just throwing your arms around Joel’s neck. Joel pulled you against him. 

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” you breathed in his ear. “I promise, I’ll be right back, I love you so much, Joel.” 

It was like his heart cracked. No one had said that to him in so long. His chest got tight. 

“I’ll be here, Baby,” he said softly. “Not going anywhere.” 

Dr. Lee came back and led Joel and Tommy out of the room, Andrew’s hand firmly on your shoulder as you watched them go. Joel felt sick, you being far away from him again. He focused on getting through to the morning. That’s all. He’d been away from you for more than five years, he could do one night. He was sure of it. Just one night. 

He couldn’t. 

[dreadsuitsamus]

Satisfied | Kakashi Hatake x Reader |

author's note: this is a WIP that i actually finished today haha i started this many months ago and picked it back up yesterday. i apologize if you can tell what's old and what's new 🙈 this is a fluffy modern au where the reader and kakashi are elementary school teachers!

pairing: kakashi hatake x fem!reader

warnings: pregnant!reader, no plot just fluff

Hatake Kakashi leans against his wooden desk, waiting patiently for his young students to calm themselves after they'd returned from their lunch period. He's a laid-back teacher that doesn't mind letting his students socialize a tad more than was maybe necessary at times. He learns a lot about the children this way; he studies their friendships, their rivalries, and even some inklings of a crush in a few of them. It sure made planning the seating chart fun, whenever he decided to change things up.

"Naruto!" He says sharply as the fifth-grader held a pair of scissors to the ponytail of a girl that routinely made it clear she didn't like him. Kakashi wasn't exactly a fan of how Ino would exclude the blond boy, but he surely wasn't going to let Naruto cut her long, beautiful platinum hair. The last thing he needed was screaming, and the calls to the parents, then the paperwork... He shudders at the thought of it all.

Naruto scowls at his teacher and stuffs his scissors back into his pencil box, crossing his arms and turning his head so Kakashi can't see his face. It was enough to elicit a soft chuckle from Kakashi, and by then the class had calmed down and focused their attention onto Mr. Kakashi, as he had introduced himself at the beginning of the school year.

"Oh, is it my turn?" He jokes softly before standing tall, hands stuffed into his pockets. "For the rest of the day, we'll be outside and painting with Mrs. Hatake's class."

The classroom erupts into cheers. The most fun they ever got to have during school was when Mr. Kakashi and Mrs. Hatake teamed up. Kakashi held a thin finger to his nose and lips, indicating to his students to hold it down. He smiles pleasantly when even Naruto collectes himself and hushes up.

"Leave all of your belongings and line up by the door; and be quick! We're already late."

"We're always late." Sakura frowns. Kakashi could only wonder why she was upset; perhaps because a certain black-haired boy is in Mrs. Hatake's class?

"Time is merely made up." Kakashi shrugs before leading the way out of the classroom, each student neatly in line. Not even Naruto was willing to see what would happen if he tried misbehaving while they walked through the school; Mr. Kakashi once said that he had eyes on the back of his head and he certainly didn't want to see them!

The kids cheer when they get out of the building and ran towards Mrs. Hatake's class. The newspapers, the paint, the brushes, all of it was already set up and ready to go. The other students are patiently waiting and chatting generally amongst themselves, whereas you, Mrs. Hatake yourself, stand waiting with crossed arms and an unimpressed eyebrow when Kakashi finally approaches.

Kakashi rubs the back of his head, smiling weakly and laughing nervously. "Ah..."

"Save it." You snort and turn to the students. "Alright everyone, settle down! Before we start painting, make sure to put on your aprons so you don't mess up your nice clothes!"

Sakura and Ino both squeal as they rush to collect an apron and make it back to the table before someone could take the spots beside Uchiha Sasuke, who already has an apron on. Naruto runs and picks up two aprons, rushing back to his friend Gaara, who was generally too nervous to involve himself in a crowd. Gaara smiles and thanks his best friend with a strong hug that Naruto's more than eager to return. They really are the cutest boys in the bunch, in your opinion.

When all of the children are ready to go, you pass out thick pieces of paper, talking as you go. "I want you all to paint whatever you want! Your pets, your friends, your favorite superheroes, anything! Just express yourselves today. As long as you turn in a painting, you get a hundred!"

"Yes!" Naruto cheers. He didn't get many hundreds on anything, so he's quite determined to rock this painting activity.

The kids start their paintings, so you and Kakashi settle in your own spots on the benches to paint your own things. You make eye contact and share a small smile, a fluttering feeling in your swollen belly passing by, before getting started. "So what will you be painting, Mr. Kakashi?" You absentmindedly swipe a hand over your baby bump; in just a few more weeks it'll be time for your maternity leave!

"Hmmm, I'm not sure yet, Mrs. Hatake." He hums softly. He sure loves saying your name. "How about you?"

"Well, I'm going to paint my beloved cat Julian." You grin smugly. Oh how Kakashi despises that cat.

"The entire world, and you choose a cat? And not only that, but the dumbest one in this world?" Kakashi narrows his eyes with a scowl. Julian was a good kitty, he could admit that. It's the idiotic antics that the orange fella got up to that irritate him to no end, and he's gotten worse since you got pregnant. He's a bit like Naruto, if he really thinks about it. But Naruto's definitely smarter than that cat, at least.

"Ehhhh?!?!" Footsteps quickly approach you and your husband.

Kakashi's eye twitches before he dares look at the only student who can get that loud. "Naruto! What's wrong?"

And thus begins Naruto's rant about Sasuke, his rival since kindergarten. You laugh softly and rub your lips together in an effort to hold yourself back, continuing on painting your cat while Kakashi stares blankly at his student and tries comprehending why he's so upset about Sasuke improvising and making purple paint with the red and blue paints, since Naruto had stolen the purple paint just to spite Sasuke in the first place.

Perhaps Julian has the edge on Naruto after all.

Even young Gaara, a student of your own, has his head hung in shame with a palm plastered to his face. At that, you couldn't contain your laughter. "Naruto, honey." You chuckle softly. "Why don't you get him back and see what happens when you mix red and yellow?"

Naruto nods roughly and runs back to his seat, and moments later he cheers for his success in the making of his favorite color. Kakashi smiled and looked at you with gentle eyes. "How do you do it?"

"I just think how he would and then go from there." You shrug and glide the paintbrush over the paper. "It doesn't make him feel dumb and he learns something new."

"You'd be better off as his teacher than me."

"I don't know about that one. You have quite the knack for kids, even if your style is different from most." You wink at your husband and quietly continue painting.

Kakashi smiles to himself and begins working on his own canvas, but with his own watercolor set instead. He took some art classes back in college, so he decides to put his skills to the test with this project. Being with you gives him inspiration like that, when otherwise he would just be lazy and draw something simple, like an apple with a worm in it. There were endless reasons why he loved you and married you; the way you made him feel and the confidence you gave him were very high up on that list of answers.

You check your watch and issue a ten-minute warning to the students to finish up so their paintings can dry before they go home for the day, and that they could have a whole hour of recess after you called time. Little hands quickly hurry their brush strokes and reach for different bottles of paint as they perfect their masterpieces.

Kakashi hums softly, intently focusing on his canvas. "I wonder what they've all made." He continues to focus on his artwork, diligently ensuring each stroke of his brush is perfect. Hatake Kakashi had yet to be bad at something in his life, so you already knew whatever he was envisioning was going to come out onto that canvas exactly as planned.

You allow Kakashi the time to continue his work and take on the task of getting each student cleaned up on your own. At their current age, they mostly were able to keep themselves free of the paint, save for a few dots here and there on their hands.

"Naruto..." You sigh, rubbing your face tiredly. Even with an apron that was bigger than his little body, he managed to get paint on his face, arms, and the shoulder of his t-shirt. You already know his mother, Kushina, would tear into him when his father brought him home from school. Minato picks the boy up every day, ever since the incident with Naruto and the mud pies happened when his mother picked him up... She was still fully deserving of her title as the Red-Hot Habanero that she'd been given when you were in grade school with her, you learned that day.

Naruto pouts and averts your gaze. It seemed he was also well aware of his mother's ire, but he just wasn't able to control himself enough to avoid the consequences just yet. You offer your hand and take him inside to clean up, and when you're done he runs to join up with his friends on the playground. "Don't get dirty again!" It was a fruitless demand, but you at least had to try.

"As if that could ever happen." Kakashi snorts. Seemed he'd finished his task while you were cleaning up Naruto.

"All I can do is try." You sigh with a shrug and start walking around the tables to get a look at everyone's artwork.

You pause in front of Sasuke's canvas. With a deep sigh, your hand absentmindedly moves over your heart, the other coming to rub against where your baby's just kicked you. Sasuke's painted himself with a first-aid kit in one hand and a medical degree in the other, a big smile on his face. His dream is to become a doctor and cure the disease that's befallen his elder brother, Itachi. You were Itachi's teacher as well when he was Sasuke's age, and to think that a bright young boy like him would become too frail and sick to achieve his true potential was enough to bring tears to your eyes. Sasuke is determined to cure his big brother, and you know nothing will stand in his way.

"Hopefully he's given the chance." Kakashi murmurs, looking at the painting from over your shoulder. He presses a swift kiss to the back of your head, snaking a hand around your midsection to hold your body to his, running his hand over your belly in a wide, swift stroke before he continues his journey around the table.

Gaara painted himself and Naruto playing at the beach, building a sandcastle together. Sakura and Ino both painted themselves holding hands with Sasuke, though you could tell they'd sabotaged one another by swirling green paint through each other's drawings of themselves. You sigh and shake your head; you really hope one day they'll grow out of their rivalry that merely exists because of a boy of all people and become wonderful women with their own motivations. And if they don't, they are set to be in for one tough ride with Mrs. Tsunade Senju when they got to high school.

"Choji needs a hobby." Kakashi muses. The boy's canvas reflects a rather delicious looking meal, but then again, that's what he always turns in for artwork projects.

"Eating is his hobby." You snicker, gazing at Shikamaru's work of art, a lazy attempt at drawing the sky. The paper is simply painted blue, with a yellow circle for the sun and puffy clouds outlined in black. He hadn't even filled in the clouds with white paint! "Shikamaru could use some of Choji's inspiration, that's for sure."

"Sure..." Kakashi keeps eyeing Choji's artwork. "Let's go out for dinner tonight." He murmurs.

"Only if you're buying."

Your husband shrugs noncommittally. "It's a date."

You smile and move beside him, squeaking softly when he puts his arm around you and pulls you into his side, a large hand rubbing the side of the swollen tummy housing his child. "'Kashi…"

"Hmmm?" He hums, not taking his eyes off the students as they play on the playground.

"PDA, with the students so close?"

It isn't a secret you two are married. Of course all of the staff know about it; you two married just one year after you started working at Konoha Elementary. You met in and dated throughout college, and now you're heavily pregnant with your first child together. Hell, if the students were astute enough to put two and two together when they learned both of your last names, they could have figured it out themselves ages ago. In every school year there's eventually a turning point where the students realize your relationship; so far this particular set of students haven't figured it out.

"Shhh... Enjoy the moment. One day that'll be our little darling out there. Playing with their friends..." Kakashi's dark eyes are practically swimming in eagerness and pride. He has such high hopes for the baby, and plans to help them succeed in any way possible. Hatake Kakashi had yet to be bad at something in his life, and he won't let insecurities with himself and his relationship with his father cloud his ability to care for his own child.

You laugh softly. "Not for quite some time, 'Kashi. They aren't even born yet!"

"Time is made up, but it passes in the blink of an eye." He mumbles, eyes still carefully watching the kids.

"You do have a point." You hum and keep a watchful eye over the students, allowing them to play without interruption.

After some time, you cup your hands around your mouth. "Alright everyone, let's come and present our pictures!"

The students eagerly run back over and sit in front of their now dried paintings. "You don't all have to present, but those that do want to are encouraged to do so!" You smile sweetly at all those little faces. This bunch of kids are so special. They're so smart and silly and good friends to one another. It's been a while since you liked a class this much.

Naruto leads the charge, naturally, and then various students volunteer to share after. Everyone gets a turn to present, and you rub your belly as you show the kids your painting. "This is my kitty, Julian!"

"He's so cute!" Sakura squeals. You grin and put your picture down, thanking the class as they compliment your artwork.

"Does anyone else want to share?"

"Mr. Kakashi, I wanna see yours! You never share!" Ino pouts, crossing her arms.

The rest of the kids cheer and pout with her, demanding to see what he spent so long working on. Kakashi laughs nervously and runs his fingers through his silver hair, cheeks tinged red. He glances at you and you smile softly, nodding encouragingly. He carefully picks up his watercolor work and holds it up for the class.

"Wooooooow…" The students hum in harmony, amazed at what a great job their teacher did.

He's put extra care into this, that much is obvious. It's of a very pregnant woman holding hands with a silver-haired man, the both of them smiling. You wipe a stray tear from your eye and rub at your belly, gazing at your husband with all the love in your heart.

"Hey…" Naruto cocks his head, perking a brow. "Mr. Kakashi, that looks like you!"

"It is." Kakashi responds simply.

"And…" His lips twist as he puts the pieces together. But ultimately it's Shikamaru that figures it out.

His eyes go wide with shock. "That's him and Mrs. Hatake!"

"Mr. Kakashi!" Ino scolds Kakashi. "That's weird!"

"How is that weird??" Kakashi holds his hands up, failing to fight his urge to laugh at the accusation.

"You're making it seem like…" Sasuke starts quietly, and Gaara finishes his sentence. "Like you love Mrs. Hatake."

"Well, I do love her. She is my wife, after all."

You, frankly, were not prepared for all of the screaming. Laughter bubbles out of you as the kids crowd around, asking questions a mile a minute and looking between you and your husband like you suddenly sprouted tails. Kakashi can't even hide his amusement and does his best to answer all of the questions.

"We met in college."

"We've been married for five years."

"I did not tell a single lie to you guys. You just never asked my last name."

"Yes, I've heard her fart."

"Thaaaaaat's enough." You scowl at your laughing husband. "Time to head back inside for dismissal."

"Awww…" The kids hang their heads low and pick up their paintings, lining up to go back inside. You and Kakashi lead the way back, your classrooms across the hall from each other.

Kakashi smirks and sneaks in a quick kiss to your lips, which prompts the students to lose it once again. You snort and pat his cheek twice, perhaps with a little more force than normal as revenge, and then move into your classroom.

Kakashi laughs to himself and does the same, his chest light and happy. And once the students have left the building, he meets you in your classroom, leaning on the doorframe and watching you quickly fill in the perfect scores in your gradebook. You glance over and blow him a kiss, which he catches and places into his shirt pocket.

"So, where are you taking me?" You ask, filing away the book and gathering your purse.

"I was thinking ramen?"

"Hmm, I like that train of thought. Might keep you around just a bit longer now."

Kakashi chuckles, stepping towards you with his hands in his pockets and a small smirk on his face. "Just a bit?"

"Might let you stay longer if you rub my feet tonight." You purr with a little laugh, taking his extended hand so you can stand up easier. Kakashi wastes no time in capturing your lips, rubbing your swollen baby bump with both hands and massaging lightly. He's always been clear with his love, but ever since your belly started growing bigger and bigger, he's been unable to stop himself from showering you with more and more love and attention.

"If that's what it takes…" He says against your lips, kissing you for a moment more before he continues. "I'll rub anything you want for the rest of my days."

You smile against him and rub his chest. "C'mon. Get me outta here already; this bra can't come off soon enough."

Your husband smirks and pulls at the clasps through your shirt, somehow unlatching the three hooks. You gasp, affronted at the audacity of that man. Kakashi, however, howls in laughter as his long legs rush him out the room and towards the car, his silver hair falling in his eyes as you're helpless to chase him in your current state. You shake your head with a small chuckle and lock up the classroom before heading out yourself.

That's alright, You think to yourself.

Just for that he's grading all my kid's homework next week!