#idk i have a lot of thoughts on their relationship
Text
do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!)
a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.
You look at it.
And then you set your phone down.
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.
He looks good. Almost too good.
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head.
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully.
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.
You cover his hand with your own.
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm.
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.
“Yes, please.”
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings.
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.
“Spencer?”
“Hm?”
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK.
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.
He knows.
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?
Maybe you have it all wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.
24 hours go by.
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence.
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans.
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown.
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration.
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.
—
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute.
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment.
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!”
He knows.
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding.
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more.
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.
—
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzles out like foam on a carbonated drink.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.
“You regret your first time?”
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.
You want to scream bloody murder.
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse.
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.
“Goodnight.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
381 notes
·
View notes
Note
Good afternoon, Lemonade. I read your Tsaritsa fic and would like to make a request for Childe.
The Tsaritsa plays intervention after hearing rumors about Childe cheating on Fem!Reader with Lumine.
The Tsaritsa is the archon of love, so when she notices and feels that the love lives of her Harbingers aren’t going too well, she has to interfere- pt2
Childe; hurt/comfort, female reader, harbingers are all friends. I wrote that it was assumed he was cheating but didn’t actually I suck at writing cheating idk @ruttteerr
pt1
Childe
You understood that your boyfriend’s job was difficult- 11th may have been the lowest but that didn’t make the work or missions any less than the others have it.
And because compared to the other Harbinhers, he’s one of the only few who actually goes out on missions and leaves for days to weeks to months.
At first it was…annoying- he was always gone for days, and if he was actually here he’d be off working on a bunch of papers or training new fatuus.
But he tries to be with you, both mentally and physically. If he’s away, he’ll write a letter for you everyday, telling you about how it was and he hopes you’ll send one at the end of the week. If he’s working at home, he’ll ask you to sit on his lap as he works or stay in the room with him so when he gets tired and frustrated he can hold.
If he’s working in the castle- he’s bringing you to the castle. You get the picture.
So when he tells you he has a mission in Liyue that’ll take a few weeks, you’re emptying out your mailbox so that all of his letters can fit.
Yet only one comes.
The letter tells you that the first day of his mission has already gone hectic as he had to save a girl from the millileth- he learned her name was lumine and she was the same traveller who saved mondstadt from the dragon.
Now you’re not jealous. Sure at the start of the relationship you easily got jealous of girls that would stare at Childe and flirt with him but after many years of being with him and not once did he cheat, you trusted him.
It was just so insanely weird that suddenly all the letters stopped. None came for 2 weeks and you were feeling nervous- did something happen to him? Was he hurt?!?!
Your thoughts worsened when one day, a subordinate showed up to your home, carriage ourside and explaining a Harbinger has called for you.
Did he die?!?!? You ask him so many questions but he apologizes and says he knows nothing and you’re forced to head to the carriage, on the way to the castle.
Once inside, you found Signora- a friend and a harbinger. She was pacing around, and her eyes lit up when she saw you.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, your breath quickening at her state. “Is Childe okay?”
“Who cares about him!” She scoffed, walking up to you. “Has he sent you anything lately? I just got back from Liyue.”
“No- and shouldn’t he be here with you?!”
“He asked for a few extra days to stay there.” She dragged a hand down her face, seemingly very annoyed.
You were about to ask why- what’s so important that he’s taking extra time on this mission but Signora was already back?! Until it clicked in your head, and slowly as the puzzle pieces went together, the pieces of your heart started to break.
“He met lumine…” you breathed out, remembering his final letter before they stopped.
She frowned. “Everyday I was there they were always together. And now he’s taking a few days extra?! Y/N, they are hanging out one hundred percent. Honestly, I think he might’ve…”
You put a hand up to stop her, feeling tears well in your eyes. No- this couldn’t be! He would never!
“What’s she like?” You asked, somewhat trying to make this whole situation worse for yourself.
“She fights a lot- as much as Childe, honestly.”
A girl who loves to fight, just like he does.
“Looks?”
“Ugly.”
Gorgeous actually, she just didn’t wanna say it.
“This can’t be happening,” You sniffed, trying not to let any tears fall.
Down the hall, just around the corridor was Pierro, listening in on everything and deciding he must tell the queen of love herself.
~~
“WHAT?!?!?” She screamed, echoing around the throne room and sending shivers down everyone’s spine. Her face was full of fury, and Pierro was honestly a bit scared. “CHILDE? CHEATING? ON Y/N?”
She practically growled, pacing back and forth around the room. “This is…atrocious! Nauseating! Abhorrent! And it’s the same traveller that tried to stop Signora, am I not correct?! Does he have no shame?!”
Pierro just blinked, not knowing what to say but he honestly couldn’t even get a word in with how much she was ranting.
“I want a room put for her this instant! She will stay in the castle as a loved guest until Childe comes. Speaking of! WHO IS HE WITH?!”
Pierro took a step back. “Zhongli- Morax’s human form.”
“I’m gonna visit that dragon in my dreams and he better relay every single goddamn word I say to Childe and Childe BETTER be here in 3 days!”
“Can i take my leave now?” He honestly didn’t care.
“Wait! Tell the others that the moment chikde steps FOOT in this castle he is to report straight to the hall and all of you will give him an intervention! No- actually! Tell him to come here and I WILL.”
“Ok.” He shrugged and she sighed, taking a seat back onto her throne and waving her hand away, letting Pierro take his leave.
~~
Childe was absolutely scared shitless when he arrived back in Snezhnaya because what the hell did Zhongli mean when he said he went to sleep and the Tsaritsa visited him in his slumber screaming at him to tell Childe to come back to Snezhnaya immediately?!?!???
The moment the palace doors closed behind him, the walls started to shake and ice fell from the ceilings.
“AJAX!”
The Tsaritsa’s scream echoed around every ahll of the castle and dread filled him in an instant. He looked to the side of the hall to see Dottore, who looked absolutely scared shitless and Capitano who went rigid.
“You’re in some deep shit comrade.” Dottore snorted and Childe genuinely had no idea what he was talking about
And he still had no idea as he stood in the throne room, watching the Tsaritsa yap and yell at him but he couldn’t even understand a word he was saying.
Because all she would say was “cheater” over and over again and say she was so humiliated and disappointed and he had no idea what to say.
“Do you have anything to say?!”
“Yeah- what thé hell are you talking about?!”
“You cheated on Y/N!”
He stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded for a few seconds before he broke out into a fit of laughter. “What?! Oh my, your majesty I never took you as one to be such a jokester!”
Now she was confused. “Huh? I’m not! You cheated on Y/N with Lumine! Of all people you could’ve done it with- HER? OUR ENEMY?”
He realized she was serious and now he was once again, insanely confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You cheated on Y/N with lumine!”
His jaw dropped. What? No, he would never ever EVER cheat on his pookie bear and he MEANT that because you’re the love of his life! “I would never cheat on her!”
She was about to yell at him, but then she felt it- she felt the amount of love he had for her now that he was back, and it was too strong- too strong to remain after cheating on someone.
She basked in the feeling for a while, and felt herself calm down. “You…didn’t?”
He just shook his head, scoffing. “Where did this even come from?!?”
She didn’t answer, instead laughing and yelling “YES!” Out of joy and she ran up to hug him and he was just so confused still.
“Oh, forget everything I just said about you, Tartaglia! It was a rumour, and we all believed it!”
“All- SO Y/N THINKS SO TOO?!”
Her heart drops when she realizes.
~~
You were hesitant to let Childe into the room the Harbingers so graciously offered you, but he just sounded so desperate that you couldn’t help yourself.
His heart broke at the sight of you- eyes red, nose runny and your shirt drenched in your own tears. He took your hands, realizing just how cold they were and sat down beside you on the bed.
He put one hand on your cheek to wipe away a falling tear and you tried to ignore how cold his hand was.
“I…I’m sorry. I made a promise to you years ago- a promise that I would never leave your side, and I still intend on keeping that promise, but I should’ve tried harder on my mission. I wanted to write to you everyday, but it got so hectic…Morax decided to pull a “fake-my-death” last minute and since, the whole plan was in shambles and the traveller was trying to help…in the end I ended up beating her ass, which I hope makes you feel better-“
It did.
“And so much more happened; I got betrayed by a friend and I never thought I’d be hurt by this but god even Signora betrayed me! They lied to me throughout the mission and the reason I took extra days was because Morax- Zhongli, now, wanted to explain to me just why the plan was changed and I was just gonna spend those few days with him. I should’ve wrote to you- any spare few minutes I had I should’ve spent at least writing out a few words to you, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”
More tears flew out of your eyes, and even he was crying too. You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.
“You’re not obligated to have to always write to me.”
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. “I know. But I want to.”
He’ll take you both to your shared home but now, he just wanted to keep you in his arms to make up for the last 3 weeks.
#genshin impact#genshin fic#childe x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#childe x fem!reader#childe x y/n#childe x you#female reader
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Less a theory with evidence and more my personal pet way of sorting fears BUT
What if fears were sorted slightly differently in this world? What if instead of being sorted by the what part of the contents of the encounter were scary, they were sorted by what might cause someone to be scared by them?
“Hey Jack, what do you mean by that?”
I mean that in this scenario, Mr Bonzo would be filed under childhood. People that have skewed relationships with their own childhood tend to get more attached to spookies that have a similar theme. Think dolls and five nights at freddy’s and spooky nursery rhymes.
A lot of the statements occurring in The Magnus Protocol seem to stem from insecurities of some kind of another, whether those insecurities be financial, social, medical, etc which I think fits nicely with this more personal sorting system. Less about the spooky itself and more about who might be affected by it
Idk if any of this makes sense. I’m just sorta spewing words at this point. I would love to hear your thoughts on this
#rusty quill#the magnus archives#the magnus protocol#the magnus protocol spoilers#tmagp#tmagp spoilers#mr bonzo#tmp
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I just had the (not really) revolutionary idea to give MC the possibility of choosing a "best friend" from the ROs. Like, a non-romantic but close relationship. This would be determined during the same choice sequence in Chapter 4 where MC is also able to reconsider their romantic notions.
At first, I thought "oh yeah I'll add this for the MCs who aren't interested in romance" but then I went "holup, that's kind of unfair; MCs who are romancing one of the ROs SHOULD actually have the opportunity to be close friends with another". It would only make sense. Also, it'd be especially neat if an MC who's romancing one of the Malak siblings could be best friends with the other. Sister/Brother in law-style.
I think I really want this option in the game, but I'm... hesitant. That's a lot of extra content for me to write. It might be a bit easier if the best friend option was restricted to non-romancers. Idk I need outside input.
#if: such happy campers#if: wip#interactive fiction#romanceable characters#hosted games#choicescript game#ro rambles
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, I’ve been thinking a lot about spideytorch lately (as I am one to do) and a question popped into my head:
What is the most important spideytorch comic panel?
There’s a ton of great options in my opinion, but I think there also is an answer (at least for me) so now I am going to subject all of you to my thought process. Get ready for a way to long post breaking this down.
The most obvious starting point has to be this classic
Johnny Storm is going full house husband for Peter Parker, I mean c’mon! add in the fact that he’s in his undies and the way that he’s leaning over peter… yeah this is a classic. This might be the most famous spideytorch panel out there, but I don’t think it’s the most important one.
Another classic (but more antagonistic?) one takes place, of course, at the usual place.
To me this is peak identity shenanigans and the stuff that fanfics are made of. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the complications that go into the conflicting way these two view identity, oh boy I could talk about that shit for hours, but as an individual moment, it doesn’t really crack most important for me, it needs a bit more affection (they’re very bad at affection sometimes).
Another panel that came to mind very quickly for me is this set.
Johnny literally only had to say his name and Peter knew exactly what he meant and what he needed. This is top tier levels of communication, both between them and from the creators to us. I think this is another one that I could talk about for hours. That being said, it doesn’t feel important enough to me.
A friend in the spideytorch discord server posed this panel as the most important spideytorch moment in the comics.
I’m just gonna put their quote in cause it’s great. “I think this is one of my favorite panels cause Johnny was just speaking generally and Peter was like ‘oh my god! Actual wise words form johnny’ but also, I love that this was a more important moment for Peter than Johnny.” I must say, this entry is extremely important to spideytorch and gave my choice a run for its money. I don’t have a huge reason for not making this one the most important, other than personal taste. For their relationship, this is a key moment and sets them on the path to actually being friends (at least on Peter’s end), but idk it just wasn’t doing it for me.
Another panel I was reminded of thanks to this submission was this moment.
It’s not quite as impactful as the past one by a long shot but I do think it’s important. After being rivals for so long, to see Johnny give a genuine heartfelt compliment to Peter is fantastic (haha). This feels like the other half of the previous set of panels. There we had Johnny encouraging a stranger and here he’s encouraging his friend.
Some other friends in the discord server suggested the moment that Johnny invites Peter over to watch his sex tape (yes this is canon).
(Not pictured, Peter swinging away and saying he needs to take a cold shower). Now I’m not saying that the most important spideytorch moment needs to be serious, but I think this moment might be too unserious to claim that title. This moment was huge for the fanbase because holy shit did, he actually say that, but for their relationship, I just don’t think it was as important as it was to us.
Now I do want to knock out a few honorable mentions that I would hate to miss.
First, this look given to Spidey by Johnny, I mean yeah, he’s in love.
And to balance the lovesick flirty scales I must expose Peter as well.
Next, this heartbreaking moment that basically admits to the audience that Peter’s world becomes chaos when he loses Johnny. That shit hits.
Of course, the moment that gave us the ship name.
A panel that lives in my head rent-free because honestly marvel what were you attempting to convey here other than the fact that Peter really wants to have hate sex with Johnny Storm?
To take us outside of our duo, this quote from Ben Grimm (EDIT: it’s was Peter’s clone Ben Reilly, which honestly only adds more drama), because honestly same.
And of course, I have to include the panel which showed us the first time (on page) that Peter told Johnny he loved him AND gave us canon proof that these two have “date night,” many a fic writer was fed well.
And how could we forget! THE USUAL PLACE! Literally any panel mentioning this is top tier because its so good, like the core of the fandom honestly.
Lastly, before moving on to my own more serious contenders I have to share this parallel that @sciderman shared because I love it.
Now to my serious contenders for the title of most important spideytorch panel (please remember this is all my opinion and I mean no shade). This will be a top 5, but just know some of these rankings are pretty flexible (even flexible with some panels from the beginning), and this question should not be taken as seriously as I am taking it, I am fully aware of that.
Number 5!
So, I know that I discounted the sex tape scene earlier because I didn’t think it was serious enough and it didn’t do enough for their actual relationship, but I had to include this one I’m sorry. A lot of this is personal taste but the implications here are *chefs kiss* The first time I saw this panel was actually on Pinterest with the caption “wait a second, did spider-man and the human torch have sex?” which says it all for me.
Beyond that, this moment also shows how they reach out to each other when they have problems. Strange children show up in Peter’s life and the first person he calls about it is Johnny. Again, this is not the most serious, but I love it. This moment shows the banter of their relationship, how they care about and rely on each other, and also potentially reveals that they’ve had sex. There’s a lot to take in.
Number 4!
I will be honest with you all, this moment is here almost entirely because Ben’s quote lives in my head rent-free. Everyone around them sees how they feel about each other besides them. When they were rivals others could tell they actually liked each other and when they became friends others could tell that it was deeper than that. I think I especially love this panel because it conforms that we’re not crazy for thinking there’s something there but also because Ben specifically cites the way Johnny looks at peter. That is very specific and says a lot. I can’t imagine Ben would say this if the looks Johnny gave Peter were purely platonic, and just ahhhh, there’s so much said here just in one line from Ben. There was of course the Ben moment earlier, which I also love, but something about this one, the more specific phrasing of it I think just shoots it up my rankings a lot.
Number 3!
If you’ve been following me for a while I don’t think this is a surprise at all, I have already done a very in depth post about this panel so I’ll keep my thoughts brief. Red Skull knows that hurting Johnny will hurt Peter, Peter’s Spidey senses go off FOR JOHNNY, and we are given so much angst potential, I love it.
Number 2!
This one is probably a more popular choice than my number one, and I totally get it. The excitement and joy bursting out of Peter when he finally realizes that Johnny is here, he’s real, and he’s alive really gets me. Plus, the added context to the uniform comment being that Johnny literally left Peter his family and his spot on the team in his will. The amount of pure love in this moment and its larger context is abundant, platonic or romantic, it’s there. I feel like everything I could say about this panel has probably been said before, but it is definitely worthy of being the most important spideytorch moment, even if I have one that beats it for me.
Number 1!
For those of you who don’t know, this panel comes from Peter visiting Gwen’s grave and talking to her. That fact alone breaks me in half but then the things he says to her shatter me. Every spider-man fan knows how much Gwen’s death broke Peter, it destroyed him to lose her. Just the fact that Peter admits Johnny brings part of him back is amazing (haha) because that is a hug feat. But then he shatters me even more with his final sentences. After Gwen’s death, we often get a peter who spends too much time as Spidey in order to avoid having to cope with Gwen’s death as Peter, but also as a way to cope with the loss (he’s a complicate man). Spideypool also gets a lot from that arc because of Wade’s reaction to Spider-Man not holding back as much and becoming less of a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and that’s true. The fact that Peter feels like he’s becoming who Spidey is supposed to be again when he’s around johnny is huge! But then! He corrects himself. He’s not Spidey again, he’s Peter. The real person, the man behind the mask, comes back. And then you get the final correction. He’s not just peter again, he’s *Gwen’s* peter again. He is the him that existed with Gwen when he’s with Johnny. That speaks volumes and breaks whatever parts of me are left. How am I expected to read this and not think that Johnny and Peter are soulmates?
Now, I will acknowledge that this is much more of a peter moment than a joint spideytorch moment, much like the moment suggested by discord friend earlier. If that disqualifies it for you as the most important spideytorch panel, I get it. However, for me that doesn’t matter mainly for one key reason. So many classic spideytorch moments show a lot of Johnny having feelings for Peter or making a move on Peter. There have been a lot of times when I’m trying to get a friend into spideytorch, and I feel like I have to clarify that its not as one sided as it seems. Johnny is much more out there with who he is and doesn’t hide his feelings very well (except maybe from himself). So, when we get any spideytorch moment that hones in on peter’s feelings and love for Johnny, that feels so huge to me. This moment alone proves that it isn’t one sided, Peter has deep feelings for Johnny, even if he’s not sure what they are yet, he knows that what they have is special, he wouldn’t be telling Gwen about it otherwise. While it may not be as famous of a spideytorch moment, its an important one, and for me it’s probably the most important one.
Anyway, this has been a way too long post about this topic but if you made it to the end thank you so much! I would love to hear other people’s thoughts on this topic so feel free to share those. Also, just a reminder that these are my opinions, and I am not in charge at all so don’t take it too seriously (unless you want to).
If you’re interested in hearing me, go more in depth on any of these panels (or any other spideytorch panels) shoot me an ask because I could honestly talk in depth for a while about most of these panels and I would love to do so. Thank you again for reading this way to long post and good night spideytorch nation.
#spideytorch#alt descriptions coming soon!#peter parker#johnny storm#peter x johnny#peter parker x johnny storm#mine :)#fantastic four#spider-man#marvel#comics#spideytorch meta#marvel meta#enjoy my chaos
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
misc. bribelle thoughts
prefacing this by saying bribelle is my favorite ship. actually might be one of my favorite all time ships considering whenever i catch 11:11 i make a tweet on my priv twitter saying “11:11 bribelle and rarijack” because i’m insane.
anywho…
i think it’s a lot easier to justify saying faybelle potentially has feelings for briar in a canon context because even aside from her diary, her behavior in epic winter can most definitely be read with flirtatious undertones, especially after witnessing the dream sequence
but i’m always trying to justify things to myself in accordance to canon without feeling ooc, because i’m the type of creative who would rather write my own original thing than make alterations to a pre-existing work. that’s just me.
and briar is trickier to do so with. in the show alone, she only actually verbally responds to faybelle once and it’s a line that also adds exposition. “but it’s forbidden!” girl come on throw faybelle a bone at least…
by epic winter, i’d say briar could potentially have had surface level attraction to faybelle, but it isn’t until having that dream and probably especially post-epic winter when she’d get time to actually reflect on it that she’d start to develop palpable feelings for her.
i’ve kinda noticed something about briar: she likes attention. i guess she’s kinda like faybelle in that respect.
briar grew up with neglectful parents. fill in the blanks. why wouldn’t she want attention when she lacks it properly from the two most important people in her life?
along this line of thinking, briar especially values explicit displays of affection, particularly from a potential romantic partner.
so, regrettably, let’s look at her relationship with hopper.
i.e. briar’s behavior in the webisode “Here Comes Cupid.”
when she first confronts hopper about his unconventional advances, she’s disinterested and borderline repulsed.
but after hearing him profess his love via the recording, she’s taken aback and actually grows endeared.
until this BAFOON fumbles the bag and does some really creepy shit by leaning into her personal space and calling her hot. understandably, this miffs briar and she once again loses interest.
(side note, too many people ignore how blatantly creepy hopper is to women, ESPECIALLY briar. he needs to be held accountable, not rewarded by getting the girl.)
even then, despite not necessarily returning his affections, she’s somewhat comfortable in the status quo that he devotes his attention to her. which is exactly why i think in bunny’s diary (bunny is wrong btw she doesn’t know a damn thing so idk why the one wiki that’s not the official wiki list hopper as briars crush when the source is bunny’s word like fuck all) bunny mentions observing briar appearing disappointed when ginger asks hopper to the dance and he accepts.
to briar, it’s like she’s losing one of the few things she’s familiar with, the few constants in her life. in this case, her only plausible option who she’d have reason to believe would accept. and we all know how briar is about losing things.
briar sorta settles into this state of fondness towards hopper’s affections, despite them being unrequited. because at least he gives a damn about her.
faybelle—at least, outside of her diary and up until epic winter—might as well be any villain; faybelle just wants to cause chaos for the sake of ruining somebody’s day. and i don’t think briar likes it that way.
i’d assume around the time of faybelle’s introduction to the series, briar’s stance would be one of upset towards faybelle, believing she doesn’t take their story as seriously as she(briar) does. that her role in sleeping beauty isn’t as important to her as being evil in general.
i have half the mind to say that this could potentially be read from briar’s behavior in faybelle’s diary.
first off, that underlining wasn’t added; the underlines are in the official print. meaning briar is putting emphasis on those words specifically. sure it’s a lesson to faybelle about not being an asshole, but also it reflects on briar in a way. like it could be her saying, “you’re supposed to be my villain, but you act like i’m no different to you than anyone else.”
now, this next part is obviously a surface-level gag about faybelle making a malicious act seem so thrilling, but if we close our eyes and pretend that we’re in a different world called I.D.G.A.F. dimension, we can now analyze this in a different light.
briar’s confused by faybelle’s verbal expression of almost-affection. it doesn’t help that she’s most definitely barely awake. but i’m willing to say her confusion is partially born out of actually having heard faybelle say such a thing. it’s gotta be surprising and hard to believe in that moment, because briar has every reason to think otherwise.
in the show, like i said, faybelle just does whatever the fuck. open a sweat shop? sure why not. assist her peer’s mom in attempting to turn the entire world into her own dictatorship? count her in. make a deal with the mafia? just a regular tuesday. but god forbid she focus on being the one to make the sleeping happen in sleeping beauty.
i think that irks briar. or at least make her generally act indifferent when faybelle comes waltzing around to do god knows what; if she won’t care, why should briar, right?
then there’s epic winter. or, as i like to call it in bribelle terms, “they finally fucking interacted”
when briar explains faybelle’s inclusion of herself to crystal, she simply says it’s her thing and cites the sleeping beauty story. like “hey crystal this is my villain btw, trust.”
later when briar’s yapping about the story, some may say it’s counterproductive in relation to briar’s arc that ashlynn brings up the miserable part of it only for briar to talk fondly of it, but i know briar personally, and have been filled in as to what the truth is.
briar dropped that attitude because faybelle was there. she started talking up the story, almost as a cue to faybelle, like “hey remember how you’re like a big part of my life’s purpose???”
faybelle butts in about it. and briar doesn’t get the chance to respond, but i think she was almost expecting faybelle NOT to gaf, so her doing so threw her off just a little. maybe she expected to hear something like “who cares?” instead.
then of course when they get to the castle briar’s little act is dropped and her deep fear of the sleeping beauty destiny is once again present. and of fucking COURSE that’s when faybelle decides to CARE ABOUT THEIR STORY.
listen to me, LISTEN. briar looks at faybelle BEFORE faybelle actually says “no, there’s another room far more important to our story. isn’t there, briar?” she looks at her BEFORE she actually talks. she was looking to see if she’d react, then when faybelle does speak she looks away, then she bumps her to get her attention so briar has to fight the adhd and lock in.
and faybelle just keeps instigating which honestly kinda takes briar out of her typical sulking over her destiny mood and more of like ‘what is your game here exactly’ mindset.
there’s so much to that look briar gives her. so many emotions in there.
after this they go up and faybelle taunts some more only for briar to almost actually prick her finger yada yada. and like i said, it’s a lot easier to understand faybelle’s pov. it’s very clear she doesn’t actually wanna go through with cursing briar, teasing and all. she makes as much obvious by her reaction alone when briar gets too close.
but once briar’s fine she’s like ‘yeah, okay, back to normal,’ meanwhile briar is kinda just done because faybelle is acting a fool. but she never shoves faybelle off of her unlike she did when hopper intruded on her boundaries huh briar why is that what’s that about briar still, briar has yet to have any indication from faybelle about how she actually feels in regards to their story and her role in it. or how it pertains to their relationship with each other. rather, faybelle doesn’t take it seriously much to briar’s chagrin.
then the dream sequence happens.
to me, this is the turning point.
it’s a stupid music video for an insert song, but goddamnit it confirmed darabella and even hunter got to be there with ashlynn so i’ll die standing on business.
this is what briar’s been waiting for from faybelle. that frenemy status is something i think briar wants to figure out which one to see faybelle as, depending on how she really wants to proceed with the story. and i’d say faybelle surprises her; hell, she even shows her a side of her rarely seen.
like with hopper, an outward display of affection such as this is something briar is drawn to. faybelle’s display towards briar in the dream sequence is something briar would be endeared by, as she goes out of her way to prevent her from experiencing the very thing she’s been dreading for so long. that’s gotta fit briar’s love language.
side note, i think it’s very very interesting to note that faybelle is the one to swoop in and save briar in this case, without any other characters present to show a significance in the ending of the story. i say this because hunter gets to be in ashlynn’s sequence and the bears are in blondie’s, despite none of them being in the tower asleep. all this is to say, if briar really did have feelings for hopper or really was gonna end up with him or some guy, they’d be there, right? but nope, just faybelle. I Understand.
after that we don’t really see them interact at all again, but there’s the general disdain for faybelle’s actions as a shared sentiment amongst the others. either way, by the end she shows remorse and seemingly ends on good terms with everyone, meaning i don’t see why briar wouldn’t be left thinking about the dream, seeing her in a whole new light. honestly briar would probably be kinda intrigued by the idea of the bad girl having a soft side for her. briar and i actually spoke about this the other day.
either way, this is briar learning that despite the general ignorance faybelle portrayed, she actually does care about her.
faybelle demonstrating, proving to briar that she is capable of showing affection and actually does care for her is what i think is enough for briar to begin to start falling. (which is kinda reflected in how i approached their relationship in fable fest.)
because briar knows there might actually be something there.
or maybe it’s a kid’s cartoon and one girl mean other one nice, idk.
#guess how many mental illnesses i have#2 digit number#that’s an exaggeration#point still stands#i cry when i think about bribelle#eah#ever after high#briar beauty#faybelle thorn#bribelle#briar x faybelle#briar and faybelle#ramble#duncontent#i’m half asleep so i pray i hope i don’t wake up going “who let me post this!”
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
the albatross - m. murdock
a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more!
warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything !
word count: 3.6k
summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything.
pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader
now playing: the albatross - taylor swift
"i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"
You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.
You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.
You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.
The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.
And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..
But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..
And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.
“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.
“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.
“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”
“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.
“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.
“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”
You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.
“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.
“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.
You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.
Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,
‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,
‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,
Hell’s Kitchen’
Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.
You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.
You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.
As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.
You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.
“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.
“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,
“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”
“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”
“You know usually, that’s my line.”
“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.
“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”
“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,
“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?”
You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.
And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.
“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.
“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,
“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.
“Yes, like a date.”
“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.
“Really?”
“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,
“You’re funny.”
Yeah, really fucking hilarious.
“So, a date?”
“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.
“What would we do?”
“Anything you want.” He tells you.
“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.
“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.
Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.
“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.
Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?
But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,
“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”
The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.
“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.
You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.
You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!
You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.
You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.
But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)
“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.
“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,
“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.
“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”
A beat.
Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.
“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,
“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,
“You mean we’ll take it slow?”
“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..
“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,
“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.
“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.
“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”
“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.
“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”
“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.
“Answer the question.”
“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”
You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.
“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.
“A couple of orphans, huh?”
You squeeze his back.
“Seems like it.”
You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.
But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.
You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.
“So, what’s your favorite book?”
“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.
“Try for me.”
“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.
“And movies?”
“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”
“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”
You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.
“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.
“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.
“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.
“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.
“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”
“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.
“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.
“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.
“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.
“Well, you’re odd.”
“Odd?”
“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”
“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”
He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.
You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.
“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.
“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.
“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.
One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.
For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.
And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.
Maybe.
Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.
Maybe.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#daredevil fic#daredevil fanfiction#matt murdock fic#daredevil#matt murdock fluff#winter soldier!reader#tortured reader#super soldier reader#matt murdock fanfiction#daredevil fluff#daredevil x reader#netflix daredevil#matt murdock fanfic
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I actually really enjoyed the little HB short with Millie and Sallie Mae.
I thought it was cute and it was breath of fresh spring air to get some scenes with JUST woman characters interacting and talking about their relationship.
That said, after watching, it just made me realize how much I want an ACTUAL episode exploring Millie and her background.
At the end of the short we get that brief conversation about Sallie Mae seeming to feel left behind when Millie moved to the city, and that honestly should have been the plot of the harvest moon festival imo.
Little reimagining of how Harvest Moon Festival could have used the basic premise/conflict in Hell’s Belles to develope Millie more and give us a better insight into her character. (Also after typing all of this out I realized I misspelled Sallie May’s name, and I’m too tired to go back and fix it please do not bully me rip 😭🪦)
So, Instead of having Moxxie compete with striker, what if we’d learned that Millie left home because she had an inferiority complex due to constantly being compared to Sally Mae, who could be the “golden child” of the family.
Maybe Sally Mae and Millie have always had a really fierce sibling rivalry, and Millie has struggled a lot with measuring up to her sister.
Striker could be not only the new farmhand, but Sally Mae’s new boyfriend. Instead of the conflict being Moxxie’s feelings of inferiority to Striker, further tension could come from Millie being upset that her parents are so accepting of Sally Mae’s partner while not approving of her’s.
Millie could be the one to find Striker’s assassin gear, and Striker manages to knock her out like he did Moxxie. Instead of Moxxie stabbing Striker like Millie did in the actual episode, it’s Sally Mae who catches Striker and stabs him to try and save her sister. The way this could be set up could also be a nice establishing character moment for Sally Mae—she’s dating Striker, but the moment she sees her sister in danger she doesn’t hesitate to try and save her sister.
Striker throws Sallie Mae and Millie into the basement, and Sallie Mae is the one to get her leg in the bear trap.
They have a sister heart to heart, where Millie expresses her frustration for not being able to take Striker out on her own and feeling like she’s always been in Sallie Mae’s shadow.
Sallie Mae could then reveal that she’s always been jealous of Millie for being her own person and going against their parent’s wishes by striking out on her own moving to Imp City. Maybe Sally Mae has always been afraid of disappointing their parents, but wishes she could also leave the farm. Or Idk, maybe she’s always been the “golden child” because she’s been trying to impress Millie, and not their parents, because she admires her sister. There’s a lot of different sibling rivalry/insecurity conflicts and dynamics that could be used here.
The main point is that they come to an understanding in the basement, Sallie Mae gives Millie a pep talk and lets her know that she can do this and take down Striker.
Millie escapes the basement and the episode plays out like it does in the actual show. Instead of Millie getting talked down to her parents at the end, it’s Sally Mae, and when they criticize Sally Mae for getting hurt and try to praise Millie for getting out of the basement and chasing Striker away with Blitzø, Millie stands up for herself and her sister, stopping her parents from pitting the siblings against each other like they did in the past.
The sisters leave on good terms and the day is saved or whatever. They hug goodbye, and promise to stay in touch more and visit soon.
This could potentially help set up the idea of Millie having an inferiority complex and struggling with not believing she’s important that, in my opinion, comes out of absolutely nowhere in “Unhappy Campers”. If it’s established early that Millie has always struggled with feeling less-than in comparison to Sallie Mae and her siblings, it makes a lot more sense that she’d be so excited with the attention she receives in Unhappy Campers. And that she’d be extra upset by Moxxie’s lack of support.
Also for anyone asking “what about moxxie” idk. helluva boss loves their b and c plots so maybe there could be a slapstick bit where Millie’s brothers keep trying to wrestle Moxxie, so Moxxie is always hiding from them or getting tackled by them. Or maybe Moxxie could be really excited to try and bond with Millie’s family and get to know them more, so he keeps trying to connect with them in different awkward ways. Whatever. This is Millie’s episode now, I don’t care what moxxie does.
This is a very very basic re-imagining, and it’s definitely been done before and can be cliche. I want to make it really really clear that I’m NOT writing this out as a “fix-it”.
More of just a “what-if” and wishing about what may have been in terms of Millie getting more character development in the show proper, instead of getting a tiny bit of development and background info in a 5 minute short.
It’s just a shame because I’d love to have more concrete development for Millie. The short gave us a LITTLE insight into her and Sallie May’s characters, but it feels like we’re still being given crumbs about who Millie is as a character after a season and a half.
We should know more about her by now other than “likes violence/is good at fighting” and “is cheerful”. And also feels unimportant sometimes even thought she’d never given any indication that she’d ever struggled with that before.
Also I don’t think the voice direction for Sally Mae was done well. I liked her voice in “Harvest Moon” but it felt like the voice actress was struggling with keeping the southern accent in tact + sounding natural.
Overall, I did really like the short, but it also made me kind of sad for what could have been in terms of giving Millie more of the spotlight.
#helluva boss critical#helluva boss critique#helluva boss criticism#helluva millie#Millie#helluva boss millie#sallie may#sallie may helluva boss#helluva sallie may
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
Pecca i want you to know that your interpretation of Volo as an angsty teenager is groundbreaking. His course of action in pla makes so much more sense when you read him as, like, 16 having his first religious crisis
THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING ME 😭
I feel like a really easy thing to forget is that we don't actually know how long the events of PLA go on for
We tend to think of Pokemon characters as locked in on one age I think instead of being actual people who live and grow. I've never really liked that bc it kinda feels unnatural to me. I wanna see these characters live their lives and not be trapped in a timeless bubble of "the narrative".
It's pretty ambiguous how long exactly you're out surveying and given the day/night cycle I don't think it would be ridiculous to say you could be at it for a year in game time before you actually fight Volo depending on if you take your time trying to complete the Pokedex or not.
So to me I think Volo was a 17ish year old teenager who got too lost in the sauce and as he got older his plans got bigger and his Pokemon got stronger and eventually he felt ready to take you and the world on.
I think the idea of a post-pla Volo is so fascinating to me because I want to be able to explore the impact of how something like that would affect such a young guy. He's not like Cyrus who was canonically 27 with his own established organization to help him, he was a younger guy with a dream that he could make the world better that had his own delusions of grandeur crushed at their highest point. The only people he had to fall back on were his Pokemon.
Idk I'm pro Volo learning and maturing somewhat in the years after that. I'm not saying he immediately realizes the error of his ways or anything, especially with his attitude, but I want to believe he could find peace eventually because at some point we all have to or die trying, you know?
Using context clues about how he feels the world is a bad place (and even if we wanna reach into Pokemas and analyze "use people before they use you") he's probably not had very good relationships with the world around him.
I feel like a lot of teenagers especially can relate to feeling like the world is suddenly a lot worse of a place than they thought it was. It's scary and frustrating and relationships with your peers get a lot more complicated. Wanting to put an end to it isn't an uncommon feeling, most of us just aren't given access to powerful Pokemon and the ability to fight god irl at that age.
But that's why the Pokemon world is better 🙏
#peccaspeaks#wow sorry for the volo rant#i have big volo feelings#thank you for the ask though!!!❤️🥺#this was fun#pokemon#pokemon legends of arceus#volo pokemon#pokemon volo#pla volo#pokemon wielder volo#asks
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Angel Dust N$FW Alphabet
AN: i was trying to see what other ppl write abt angel dust for motivation or something but there's like almost nothing. am i crazy??? i found a singular ns//fw alphabet about him. someone please write about him thanks xoxo
also for these i'm assuming that you're in a relationship w/ him or at least really friendly fuckbuddies
Pairing: Angel Dust x GN! Reader
Warnings: Sexual content, Switch! Angel Dust, Valentino mentioned, Self-Hatred, idk it's mainly just sweet nasty fluffy bullshit. actually disgustingly sweet blergh
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
His job revolves around sex. He's done this tons of times, makes sure you're feeling okay and gets you drinks and snacks and whatever you need. Takes a bath with you afterwards and if you're feeling too tired to get up, he'll just carry you over and clean you up and tucks you into bed afterwards. Forehead kisses, woo!
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Despite him constantly flexing about how attractive he is, I feel like he probably feels disgusted at himself sometimes. Thinks that he's just an object of sexual attraction after a long day at work. Make sure you tell him about how lovely he is. I'm highkey trying to think of a single horny thing to put in here to make him seem less depressed but I can't think of anything. Uhhh, fuck.
He loves every part of you, so I can't really think of anything in particular. Likes holding the area between your hips and waist for support or holding you under him, whatever your preference is. He's versatile.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
The dude's done so many things with cum. Would swallow it and loves seeing it all over your or his body.
This was more of a brain rot thought, but I randomly thought about how he's a spider. Hear me out. His cum's like the fucking spider web material but in a more watery form. It's a bit hard to wash out and gets abso-fucking-lutely everywhere. Tastes relatively basic, but the texture makes it a bit strange. Great, just wait until future jobs pull this up and ask me if I'm attracted to spiders. I'm cooked.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
For a second I was just going to type STD with a shit ton of exclamation marks, but we can go hope that Valentino's stars are tested. I really don't think Angel Dust has a lot of 'dirty secrets' considering how his job makes him do a lot of different things.
This is like the second time I've pulled this exact thing where I turn this into a completely non-dirty secret but he loves soft sex. Is this because every character I write presents as a blatantly horny fuckwad? Gee, I might have to switch it up soon with a less horny person. Or demon. Whatever.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
We already knew what was going to be written here. He's seen and done everything. Even though his job requires him to exaggerate moaning and whatever, he knows what feels good and what's not sexy. He would catch on to where you're the most sensitive and target that.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He doesn't have a favorite one, but he enjoys the ones where he can see your face so he can lean close and give you a little peck on the lips. Angel's main priority is to make sure you're feeling good, so if you're wanting it to be a bit more rough, he's down for doggy style or whatever kinky shit ya throw at him. I'm resisting the urge to just say 'ya' instead of you for the rest of this thing. Fuck, his talking style is worming it's way into my daily conversations too. It's infectious (like the herpes he probably has. I'm sorry the opportunity was just too perfect LMFAO)
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Leaning more on the joking side. He'll say like twenty sex jokes per round, minimum. I don't even think I'm exaggerating there considering how majority of his script in the show was literally just innuendos.
If you're feeling upset, he'd make sure to tone the jokes down and be a bit more romantic and everything. None of the jokes are degrading though, they're always on the lighter side since he knows how vulnerable sex is. There's this drabble I really want to put in but it's way more AMAB! leaning, maybe I'll write a little thing about him later on a separate post. (most subtle self-promotion /s)
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
I'm thinking rather completely clean or trimmed. Since his job needs him to look good, he always makes sure he's in good condition. It's pretty much the same shade as his hair with maybe a slight pink tinge to it.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Hope ya read the AN part because I'm assuming you're close to him. In that case, he's pretty romantic about it. Tells you how good you're doing and peppers your face with kisses. Overloads you with compliments.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Honestly, he's exhausted from work so he never really has a reason to masturbate (unless Valentino has it in one of his scripts). Usually just flops down into his bed and cuddles with Fat Nuggets. Although, he'd find some mutual masturbation attractive. If he accidentally walks in on you masturbating to him, he'd totally tease you about it. Maybe. I don't even know at this point. I think my brain's dissecting itself
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Bondage (Giving or receiving), Body Worship (Giving or receiving), damn this shit is mild asf I'm trying to think of literally anything else and I can't uhhhhhh... Idk oral probably
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
He'd probably prefer somewhere more private. I don't think he'd completely be against public/semi-public sex, but it's more of the fact that he's famous and would rather get paid for giving people a show. Horniness aside though, I think he would rather just be in a cozy place to fuck.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
This one's kinda random but I feel like he'd be super into it if you showed off one of your talents. It doesn't even have to be physical, but like if you did some shit like idk math or something (please not math) he'd call you some flirty ass nickname mildly related to the subject at hand and do some dirty talking.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He'd definitely get fucking flaccid if you're anything like Valentino. That being if you force him into a situation where he has no control whatsoever or if you're too harsh with him.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Due to his occupation, he does giving way more often since he's pushed into a power bottom role. He rarely gets blowjobs, so he'd definitely enjoy it a ton, especially if it's more of a soft, romantic mood.
His skill for giving is a 9.5-10/10 since he's been doing this shit for decades.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Oh my god. If I have to write 'oh yeah his job makes him do yadadada buuuuutttt' ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I'm actually going to start bawling my eyes out. I feel like if you've read this far and intended on reading with one hand, you're probably bored out of your mind already. I'm so sorry
Buuutttt youuu guessseddd it. Enjoys both, likes slow a lot too cuz he doesn't get intimate stuff often yap yap yap uhghghghghghh im so sorry dude this must be so boring to read i'm sorry reader
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Quickies are pretty convenient for him, since Valentino makes him work often so he doesn't mind a quick sesh before heading off to work. If for whatever reason he has a break (or he magically quits his job), I think he'd probably prefer taking his time, but if he's in a rush or there's something he needs to do, he'll find a random secluded area for a quickie. I read that as quiche.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
If you can find something he never did before, then yeah, totes. Can't believe I said totes in 2024. Fuck. Anyway, there's no way it's that different from what he's done before because it really just boils down to 'idk just gotta get jizz', which is his talent.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He's used to taking long ass night shifts so he can go for a ton. I think he'd just go for 3~ when he has time, I don't think he's that desperate to fuck outside of work because he's probably pretty drained already. Thinking of that in the literal sense is lowkey nasty
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Owns a good bunch because he probably gets gifts from fans which end up just being dildos and vibrators and ass plugs or something. Like I said in the masturbation one, I don't think he really needs to use them that often, but he might use a dildo every now and then. He'd probably bring them out occasionally when having sex.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
I feel like he's teasing throughout the day since all he's apparently fluent in horndog language and only communicates in sex jokes. Slander aside, during the actual sex sesh whenever that is, I think he wouldn't do edging for that long and just skip the foreplay.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
When recording, he heavily exaggerates his moaning and it probably became a habit. Good luck with trying to be subtle because his voice alone could probably blow some poor kid's ears up.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Dogshit at playing Uno. Wow I'm so creative. Who could've thought of Uno when they read wild card! Haha. Haha. Hah. Ha. Fuck, I'm so shit at writing. Who let me have a computer again?
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Y'know, when you look at him, I don't think your first though is 'big dick energy'. When he was alive, I think it'd probably have been 5-5.5 inches. Definitely very slim with a rosy pink at the tip. I know he's 8 ft, but I still don't get big dick energy so I'm just gonna go with 6-7 and call it a day.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Probably still very high despite getting fucked constantly, but if you're not feeling sexual, I don't think he'd try to push it too far. Unless you're looking for angst or toxic headcanons, then push that shit to max. Delicious, painful angst. Yum! That's mainly prior to episode 4 though, since they speedran his entire fucking arc and ended it in like 2 episodes. Thanks pacing, I really appreciate it.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He doesn't fall asleep easily for a variety of reasons, so he'd scroll on his phone for a bit or something before sleeping with you if he trusts you enough.
AN: well that was dogshit thanks i hated it /jk but maybe I just have beef with 'wholesome' things. imo this is probably the type of bullshit they say when 'anthony' and 'angel dust' are different because this was definitely anthony or whatever then. man i gotta make this shit more horny next time, think i'll do val or blitzo or verosika or idk someone who's horny. like and follow for more banger content guys boom (seriously though i feel like this was super lame i'm sorry)
#angel dust x reader#angel dust#hazbin hotel#hazbin#fat nuggets#sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x reader#gender neutral reader
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x8, Let The Games Begin. Part 5 (Richard Gilmore Has A Slutty Past)
Heh, they did the thing where they say the title of the episode inside the episode again.
Goody.
Our fearsome foursome is off to Yale. *drinks heavily*
Emily won't allow Lorelai to bring a sealed thermos of coffee into the car. Frankly I hope Lorelai spills it on her lap and gets a mild scald. It would humble her.
Ya know, It's never stated whether Lorelai has alcohol or coffee in the mug, just that Emily is adamant she can't drink liquids in a vehicle. Frankly, I would understand Lorelai's need to self medicate with booze at 9am before a road trip with her parents, but on the other hand, as I stated earlier. She also didn't have to come. She could be home playing Hide the Cocktail Sausage with Dean. We could skip to the part where Rory and Jess smooch at the gas station.
Never fear. The next scene that follows, the calm before yet another storm, if you will, turned out to be a highly entertaining and enjoyable romp for me.
Enter: Richard Gilmore The Man Whore.
After having already toured Harvard a year ago, Lorelai is still in awe over how many freaking geeks attend large universities.
Richard: I spent a lot of time in the Yale art gallery.
Emily: I'll say you did.
Richard: What is that supposed to mean?
Uh oh.
Huh. Was this art gallery some kind of idk, hub of intellectual and artistic curiosity slash whorehouse where a young man could go to find sexually liberated artistic chicks for easy pickings? But like, in the 50's? What a concept.
Jess would kick his own ass if they called it that.
Richard GIlmore, you dog.
(you have to imagine Jess is feigning interest/ knowledge in the penis octopus portrait to a young lady or perhaps another bicurious young man and not his uncle)
Emily: He was the master of the "Frown, step back, wrinkle, and sigh"
Okay, my curiosity is piqued. You got me. Please explain?
Knowing Richard Gilmore was such a skankbag in college just like Jess is the gift I didn't know I needed today. Jess can do the frown, wrinkle and sigh during a poetry open mic night at the Truncheon, where he takes his latest conquest. Tuesday nights at 8pm. Light refreshments of coffee, potato chips, and chocolate chip cookies will be served.
Be proud of your skanky past, Richard. Your grandaughter's stepcousin sure was of his.
RIchard: I'll have you know was happily involved in a very serious relationship when your mother decided she simply had to have me. We were engaged. She had met my parents, invitations were mailed out.
Emily: You'll give these girls the wrong impression.
Lorelai: That you were the Helena Bonham Carter of the society set?
Emily: I did not steal your father, I simply gave him a choice.
Richard: When you showed up at my frat party in that blue dress, I had no choice.
I know who HBC is but that's another topical early 2000's reference that has escaped me. I guess she was a man stealer of some sort. I"m thinking it must have something to do with Jonny Depp.
Anyway, I don't think you have to worry about modeling healthy relationships for Rory or Lorelai. Its too late, the horse has already escaped the barn there.
Lorelai: I can't believe you were The Other Woman
Emily:This is ridiculous.
Lorelai: The other woman should be saying "this is ridiculous"
Rory's inner monologue: I want to be just like Grandma when I grow up.
We learn Richard proposed to Emily at Yale next to a trash can, and it seems to be a tradition in the Gilmore family to get proposed to next to a trash can. And in Lorelai's case to reproduce with the trash can, continue to have sex with the trash can over the next two decades and eventually, to marry the trash can.
#gilmore girls#richard gilmore#emily gilmore#let the games begin#this was highly enjoyable#jess mariano#slutty jess#truncheon#open mic night#chips and cookies#trash can#denise rewatches gilmore girls#gilmore girls season 3#ltgb#crusty business#Rory Gilmore#cedar bar redux#light refreshments
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
youtube
an interview with adora's and catra's VAs (plus nate), apparently before s4 was released.
the comments in this video piss me off tbh, everyone is joking about the VAs calling adora and catra "friends" or "sisters", when they're. literally written as sisters lmao????
yeah it's odd that c//a was apparently "planned from the start" but if you rewatch the show, it rlly doesn't look that way, if not for a few shots where they're sexualized (which is... fucked up, honestly). even some scenes in s5 still imply that the characters are sisters, especially when they involve shadow weaver.
but considering that even the VAs didn't see anything romantic in their bond... yeah, spop is very confusing on that front. nate didn't imply any romance in this interview, i think. you might argue that it was to avoid cancellation, but even in the supposed show bible catra and adora were thought to be sisters. if they rlly wanted the two to be in a romantic relationship, idk why they didn't go in other routes - such as adora being raised by hordak and catra by shadow weaver. but no, they shared the same parental figure and they fought like two siblings who grew up in an abusive environment.
it is very telling when all the other wlw pairings ppl compare with c//a are NOTHING like c//a. meanwhile, tragic sibling relationships have a lot more in common with catra and adora.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Personally, I feel everyone even Jane Austen herself is a tad bit mean when it comes to the character of Mrs. Bennet and should shift some on that to Mr. Bennet. Like yes she's a silly, neurotic woman but can u like blame her?
Her husband failed to do anything for their children. He stopped being involved in their education probably around Mary's childhood, did not save or plan for the future of FIVE women at all, and not only that he's so unbothered by ANYTHING at all like Mr. Collins - the heir to his estate and fortune - stops by and he doesn't even tell his family?????? until he's about to arrive?????? Not only that it's kind of cruel the way he does it like haha u guys know how yall are women so u don't inherit shit? well, the dude that can come and turn u all out on ur asses - which is mostly my fault bc i didn't do shit to make sure u all are provided for once I'm gone - is about to arrive so hehe.
Like in what other way is Mrs. Bennet supposed to behave in that era where her daughter's futures were entirely dependent on the wealth of the man they marry. And honestly, i think Mrs. Bennet was almost too kind to Mr. Bennet I'd have been very bitter knowing that even tho we tried for a son - hence all the daughters - he still did nothing to ensure their financial security. Like these girls could have ended up destitute and it'd be entirely his fault. I always saw Mrs. Bennet as a mother who was just trying to do the best she could to look out for her daughters given the circumstances.
#like don't get me wrong#i love that he loves lizzy hes funny but tbh he is overall a piss poor dad#like he did not give a shit about the wellbeing of his family until his youngest daughter was near social ruin#pride and prejudice#jane austen#and like ik a lot of the reason Mr bennet isn't an active figure in the family is bc hes unhappy in their marriage#mrs. bennet did not turn out to be the partner he wanted for a wife mother#but their relationship shouldn't affect his involvement with his children#like i feel like their marriage was painted as poor Mr bennet married a silly woman and that made him unhappy#but i also feel that mrs. bennet didn't exactly luck out for a partner as well#i'd have a lot of resentment if i realized that bc my husband is unhappy with me he checks out of being a parent to the kids WE createdi#idk i have a lot of thoughts on their relationship
262 notes
·
View notes
Text
was fucking around on google images and i ended up stumbling on a reddit post from three yrs ago with a picture of iroh grabbing azula during a fight scene...
this is the only time i can think of when azula seems completely terrified.
he grabs her and she's scared shitless
but he just redirects her lightning and she's just bewildered.
i wonder what she was thinking there
#atla#avatar the last airbender#azula#azulaposting#iroh#like my first instinct is to read into her relationship with iroh and/or ozai#but if we're being real it could just be a ''wtf is that allowed????'' moment#iroh may have fucked up ba sing se but like. he killed a dragon#or. pretended to have#people thought he did anyway#i just think it's interesting#trope-wise azula is ''the dragon'' of the cast#and iroh is a helluva lot kinder to the real dragons than he is to her#did she think he was going to kill her? or just seriously kick the shit out of her#idk it just looks like azula was expecting something significantly worse to happen
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
i'm going to scream i got accused of being a transmisogynist by someone on twitter because of this specific part of my t4t steddie art
#ramble#the thing is 99.9% of people thought it was VERY funny#i've had 1 person genuinely have a problem with it and it was because i kept eddie transmasc#basically they were upset because i didn't make them both transfemme bc i just. didn't want to#twitter hasn't learned that not everything is for you and if you don't like something you don't have to interact with it#and just because you don't like something that doesn't mean it's Bad#and also sometimes queer things aren't made to be understood by everyone#it was specifically because they thought it made them into 'just another straight couple'#as if that isn't a MASSIVE erasure of trans people's queerness#trans people in m/f relationships doesn't make them any less queer or somehow inferior to gay relationships#it boiled down to 'but you could've made them lesbians :((' YEAH BUT I DIDN'T#idk it was just absolutely infuriating trying to defend myself without saying 'idk what the fuck you want from me at this point'#anyway transfemme stevie is very big on twt but i didn't know whether to post it here or not#but i might if people want to see it because i love it a lot#twitter would die if they saw the olden days when we called them genderbends and there wasn't any trans content at all
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
mom avoids dead anime mom curse because he transitions. he’s always had a complicated relationship with pregnancy because of how woefully little people are told about potential complications and aftercare, and also because of how gendered it is, so after the birth of his second child he’s finally had it and decides to transition
he joins a local community group for mothers and at first it’s played for laughs how often they fall to the dead mom curse, but soon we find out more about how society has failed mothers and people who give birth, from information being withheld, procedures being carried out without consent, lack of accommodations and maternal and paternal leave, racism…
it also turns out that becoming a man doesn’t help with this, not really, because being a pregnant trans man brings its own problems. follow along as he learns more about being a parent and a mother, and maybe even… finding love???
coming to you never because I can’t write!
#if the japanese is bad. MY BAD LMAO#this was also a joke for me at first but then i was like well hang on.....#my initial romance thought was his husband leaves him after the transition and eventually a new single father ends up joining the group#cos he like. idk misread the flyer as being a new parents group but the group accepts him with open arms#and hes drawn to the only other guy there and well u know wink wonk.#then i thought well come on thats not. very nice rip what if his husband sticks with him.#but thats why u have more than one trans guy LMAO so it doesnt become bad tokenism!!!!#the older kid also has a complicated relationship with his mom transitioning tbh#art#wow original art from me... ummm.#he also wears glasses but not all the time#GRAPHIC DESIGN IS (NOT) MY PASSION!!!!!#I WANT YOU TO KNOW IF THIS WOULD EVER BE WRITTEN IT WOULD BE GROUNDBREAKING INCREDIBLE.#but it wont because one that would imply that i finish writing anything ever.#two it would require so so much reading. which you should be doing you should be researching.#but the point is there would be a lot because i would think 'oh it had to be perfect' and then would never do it. on top of already#never finishing anything..................#ocs
437 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
