#and make good points and do great work and i love you

[nereidprinc3ss]

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 fizzle 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

[thealternateuniverse]

How did you handle it?

1st part here

A/N: Didn't expect the number of likes on the first part, thank you so much 😭

Also, I know now who does Paige's braids now. I saw her on tiktok.

Warning/s: Read at your own risk

----------------------

Following Ice's most recent live stream, Y/N's phone is constantly vibrating, and her Instagram feed is overflowing with follow requests and mentions. She didn't leave her apartment on the weekends after hearing from her teammates about their near-brawl on Friday night. She was trying to blow off some steam at the time, but she lost her cool and almost got into it. Azzi gave them a good earful, and Geno had more to say. Y/N apologized to her teammates, explaining that she was acting out of character at the time.

She felt a little better and forgot about her parents' divorce for a while. Not until her father texted her that he will be at her game next week. Dad is always the one who comes to her games; mom is too busy and cannot make time.

Frustrated, Y/N drops the dumbels.

"Yo! "KK, give me back my phone!" KK is running for her life, clutching Paiges' phone. Paige, on the other hand, looks terrified as if her life depends on with whatever is contained within her phone.

"Whaaaat! Dude, I just caught you stalking---asfghgjjhkjlhlk!" Paige caught up with KK and placed her palm on her mouth.

"Shut up!" She took her phone.

KK sounds like a dying goat now, with Paige's hands still on her mouth. Paige lets go of her and KK gasped for air.

"Shit, Hah! I just did not saw you do that P!" KK is shaking her head, laughing.

"I swear K, if you open your mouth I'll make sure that you will nev---" KK immediately zipped her mouth.

"You got it P! Your 'lil secret is safe." KK gave her a mischievous wink.

These two are as mischievous as ever.

Shaking her head, Y/N slips off her sweat-soaked muscle top, revealing only her sports bra. She could see Paige and KK's jaws drop from her peripheral vision. She turned towards them.

"What? "You guys have some saliva here." Y/N pointed to the side of her lip. The two appear to have come to their senses and instantly pretend to do something. Weird. It's as if they're seeing each other for the first time, taking off their clothes. Y/N twisted her hair into a sloppy knot and resumed lifting. She was halfway through lifting when Nika slapped her bum.

"Babe, I need you to braid my hair. Do you have a sec?"

She nodded to Nika and followed her. They walk past the others who were working out, and Y/N couldn't help but notice Paige and the way her biceps and deltoids popped while doing that damn pull up. Get a grip, Miller; you see your teammate doing this on a regular basis. Y/N reprimanded herself.

"So is mine eye enthralled by thy shape," Nika recited dramatically.

Nika came out laughing after noticing Y/N glancing at Paige.

"Don't worry, babe; she gets it a lot. And... Damn, did you just realized she's fine? You have to keep up; you have a home court advantage here." Nika winked. Y/N gave Nika a puzzled glance. It's not that she likes Paige; she just admires the muscles. That is it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, babe." Y/N said making Nika snort.

"Okay, alright. I'm blind, I can't see, must be my poor eyesight."

Y/N endured Nika's teasing while doing her hair; she doesn't want to appear defensive, so she allows her friend and pretends that Nika Muhl seeing her looking at Paige Bueckers didn't affect her.

"Thank you, Baby. "I love the braids." Nika blew her a kiss before they returned to their routines.

------------

Paige glanced around cautiously before scrolling through her phone. She couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake that had led to her being caught by KK. She wasn't stalking, though; the algorithm following Ice's live had led her to Y/N's tagged photos and edits on Instagram. It was kind of annoying that Y/N was now known for being the "pretty girl" from the team instead of for her talent as a player. Paige had witnessed firsthand how great Y/N was during her time at Stanford. If it weren't for her MCL injury during her second year, she would have been neck and neck with Nika's stats in the last 2022-2023 conference.

"Girly, you are still not done? Man you are really living up to be a stalker ." KK tried to glance at Paige's phone, Paige was quick to hide it.

"I am not!" Paige responded defensively.

"Of course, why stalk when you can see her every day. Home court advantage." KK playfully raised her brows and gestured towards where Y/N is, shooting 3 point shots. Yeah, Paige mused to herself. Paige knows she's got the home court advantage, always playing on familiar turf. Y/N, on the other hand, is a social media ghost, her posts as rare as a shooting star, reserved only for strategic brand alliances. Just like she guards the offensive players on the court, she protects her privacy with the same intensity, keeping her personal life shrouded in mystery.

"You are not gonna like this." KK's gasp breaks the silence, drawing Paige's attention as she leans in, sharing her latest sports article discovery. With rapt interest, they both delve into the words, their silent communion speaking volumes as they absorb every line, lost in the world of sports unfolding before them.

Sports Agent Katherine Taylor-Miller Entangled in New Romance Amidst Divorce

In a whirlwind of events, sports agent Katherine Taylor-Miller finds herself at the center of media attention following news of her divorce from husband Craig Miller. The prominent figure in the sports world, best known for representing basketball star Breanna Stewart, is reportedly embarking on a new romance with Los Angeles' top firm lawyer, Drew Ross.

While Taylor-Miller has remained tight-lipped about the circulating photos online, indicating her involvement with Ross, sources close to the situation confirm that the divorce proceedings are well underway. The couple, who share a daughter, aged 22, are navigating this transition as their family dynamic shifts.

Adding a layer of complexity to the situation, their daughter, a talented athlete in her own right, has been making waves on the collegiate basketball scene. Initially playing for Stanford University during her freshman and sophomore years, she has recently transferred to the University of Connecticut for her junior year, following in the footsteps of her mother's client, Breanna Stewart.

The unfolding saga has captivated both sports enthusiasts and gossip followers alike, as speculation mounts about the implications for Taylor-Miller's career and personal life. As the situation continues to develop, all eyes remain on the high-profile sports agent and her newfound path forward.

Paige's confusion bubbles to the surface in her question. "Wait, so... that is Y/N's mom?"

KK nods solemnly. "Yep. Didn't expect that."

Paige's brow furrows as she scans the article again. "That article is nasty. It was unnecessary to mention, Y/N."

The two exchange a knowing glance before their gaze shifts towards Y/N, who remains blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the tabloids.

KK weighs the options for a moment before nodding resolutely. "Very. She's not gonna like it. Do we tell her?" KK's gaze seeks approval from Paige, who meets it with a shake of her head, silently acknowledging the delicate situation and opting to shield Y/N from unnecessary distress for now. "She'll find out sooner."

KK lets out a low whistle, her disbelief evident in her tone. "Unbelievable. I never thought her mom is Katherine Taylor. That woman was a badass, but yeah, whoever wrote this has some unpaid rent due." Paige nods in agreement, a hint of frustration tainting her expression as they both recognize the injustice of the situation.

The sudden thud startles both Paige and KK. Their heads snap towards the source of the sound, only to find Y/N on the bench-side taking a water break, her hand suspended and her phone on the floor.

"That's what we're talking about."

----------------

Y/N absentmindedly follows her teammates to Subway after they decided to grab some lunch there. Despite the buzz of camaraderie around her, she's lost in her own thoughts, savoring the simple pleasure of a break from today's events. Just as she starts to believe her day couldn't get any better, her world is rocked by the unwelcome intrusion of her parents' divorce being publicized.

Her heart sinks as she grapples with the sudden exposure of her family's private turmoil. Y/N has always been fiercely protective of her personal life, preferring to keep it shielded from prying eyes. The earlier article had already crossed a line, but this latest development feels like a betrayal of trust, a violation of the boundaries she holds sacred. She can't help but feel a surge of anger and frustration at the unnecessary intrusion into her family's affairs, a bitterness that threatens to overshadow the sweetness of her teammates' company.

Y/N finds a glimmer of solace in the silent solidarity of her teammates. As they gather around the table at Subway, not a single word is spoken about the tumultuous news that has shaken her world.

In that moment, Y/N feels a profound gratitude wash over her, a deep appreciation for their unspoken understanding and respect for her boundaries.

"The salad won't eat itself," snapped Paige, jolting Y/N from her deep thoughts. Y/N mechanically took a fork, but her salad remained untouched.

"Eat up, Miller. You need your energy." Paige commandeered the fork and began mixing the salad for Y/N.

"How did you handle it?" Y/N's voice trembled with vulnerability, causing Paige to pause mid-stir.

Paige didn't respond immediately, her mind racing to grasp the depth of Y/N's question. It didn't take long for the realization to sink in—it was about the divorce.

"When your parents divorced? How did you handle it?" Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a vulnerability she hadn't intended to reveal. Paige felt a pang of empathy twist in her gut. Y/N's question caught her off guard.

"Nevermind," Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away the threatening tears. Determinedly, she finally began to eat her salad, hoping to distract herself from the emotional turmoil of the day.

As she savored each bite, Y/N made a conscious effort to push aside the weight of her parents' divorce. Her phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls, but she only mustered the strength to respond to her dad via text. All she wanted was for their divorce to be finalized so they could all move forward with their lives.

Her thoughts drifted to the inevitable changes ahead. Her mom and dad would each go their separate ways, free to pursue new relationships if they so chose. While the idea of their family no longer being whole was a painful one, Y/N knew it was time to accept reality.

Above all, she yearned for one simple request: no more articles portraying her solely as her mother's daughter. She was determined to forge her own path, to carve out her own identity separate from her family's legacy.

-------

"You okay, babe?" Nika asked Y/N, slinging her arm around her shoulders. Y/N responded with her most convincing smile. "I'm fine," she assured Nika, though the skepticism lingered in her friend's nod. "Just so you know, we're here for you, okay?" Nika offered a comforting hug. "Thanks, babe."

As they strolled back to the university after lunch, Nika, Azzi, and Aaliyah had already forged ahead for their afternoon classes, while Paige had disappeared into god knows where. Y/N's afternoon lay open; no classes to attend. She pondered whether to take a stroll around her apartment's neighborhood or indulge in a swim in the pool.

Waving goodbye to her teammates as they reached the university's parking lot, she contemplated driving back home.

Sighing, Y/N parked her car and headed towards her apartment, only to be surprised by a waiting Paige Bueckers holding a pint of Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge ice cream.

"Paige, don't you have a class or something?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige still in her training attire: a UConn Huskies hoodie, basketball jersey shorts, socks, and slides.

Paige handed her the pint without saying anything.

"You asked me how I handled my parents' divorce," Paige shrugged.

"W-well forget it. I didn't mean to ---"

"It was hard. I thought we were a happy family, that they had vows, through thick and thin, for better or worse type of shit. I was angry, wondering what could possibly make them decide they weren't meant for each other. They had me for Christ's sake. It hurt to think that one day they'd meet someone new and start over, and what about me if that happens?" Paige took a deep breath before continuing.

"The good thing is, I was able to understand that it's better to have that divorce than to pretend they're still happy. I saw how happy my father is with his new family, happier than he was with my mother... All I'm trying to say is, whatever you feel in your current situation is valid—all the thoughts running in your head, the what-ifs, they're all valid. You'll come to terms with it soon, just give yourself time to feel it. And don't forget, you have us. It sucks to be a divorce child if you don't have siblings. It's okay, Miller. You can mope, you can lash out, feel it all the way."

Y/N burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, surprising Paige, especially considering they were in a parking lot. Y/N didn't know why the floodgates had opened—was it the news of her parents' divorce? The stress of the article? Or perhaps simply the ice cream? Regardless, she found herself releasing all the pent-up emotions.

"Christ, Miller. I didn't expect you to break down right here," Paige panicked, attempting to pacify her, though Y/N continued crying loudly.

Paige gently grabbed her hand, and together they walked towards Y/N's apartment, Y/N still sobbing loudly.

"People will think I made you cry." Paige said shaking her head.

They entered Y/N's apartment, with Paige leading the way as Y/N was too preoccupied at the moment. Paige settled Y/N on her couch and opened the ice cream she had brought. Y/N accepted it and took a spoonful, still teary-eyed.

Paige looked at her friend in disbelief, finding her oddly cute in this vulnerable state, with red, glistening eyes and puffy cheeks from crying.

They sat in silence, letting the ice cream provide comfort. It worked, as Y/N's tears eventually ceased.

"Thank you, Bueckers. I needed that cry and... the ice cream. How can I ever pay you back?" Y/N leaned her head on Paige's shoulder, grateful it was Paige who knew her favorite ice cream flavor.

Paige pretended to ponder the question. "You don't have to. Just get back to being yourself," she said, gently ruffling Y/N's hair. Y/N sighed in contentment.

"I mean it, though. Thank you for being here. I was resigned to being miserable today," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude. They exchanged glances, and Paige found herself momentarily lost in Y/N's mesmerizing eyes. There was something about them that drew her in. She quickly looked away, not wanting to get too carried away and do something she shouldn't.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Get yourself together, Miller," Paige replied, more to herself than to Y/N, feeling her ears grow warm.

"Are you okay? You seem... red?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige's flushed cheeks.

"Not as red as you are. You look ugly when you cry, Y/N," Paige remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N stiffened at the comment. This was the first time she had heard Paige address her by her first name. The surprise on Y/N's face caused Paige's brows to furrow.

"What?" Paige asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing, you've never called me by my name before. Or maybe you did, I just didn't hear you," Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay it. She didn't want to make Paige feel awkward.

"I just don't know what to feel hearing it from you. It sounds different," Y/N admitted.

Paige choked on her response, caught off guard by Y/N's vulnerability. This woman will be the death of her one day. -----------------

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #kk arnold #nika muhl #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader

[renranram]

Baby making ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

nsfw + fluff

it's literally the title lmfao 😭

let's all be honest here and be straight to the point, schlatt wants to impregnate you ever since he saw you interacting with kids in unpaid intern

ludwig knew by putting both of you two in his show would make great content but he didn't expect he'll actually be an uncle soon

“ baby “ schlatt leans in as you work on editing a new video of yours, “ hm? yeah? “ you look up at him as you lower down your headphones

“ can't you edit later? wanna kiss you “ he states, whiney as he starts pecking your neck, you gasping, feeling his teeth sink in, “ jay… i dont think that's kissing “ you pat his back, hoping to crack a joke

“ y/n… be honest with me okay? “ he pause, pulling away as he faces you, cupping your cheeks as he continues, “ what do you think about children? “ he asks out

as you burst out chuckling, finding him adorable by saying that in a straight face, oblivious of his intentions

“ what? don't laugh im being serious “ he couldn't help but chuckle as he fixes your hair, “ no… it's just… i thought it was gonna be a serious question then you asked me about babies “ you smile

“ it is serious “ he defends himself, smiling at you as you take a deep breath, calming down as you nod, “ uhm… well… i like children..? “

schlatt looks at you weirdly, teasing you, “ ay! i dont mean it that way! “ you playfully hit your fiancé

“ i meant… i wanna take care of children, im happy to take care of children “ you explain thoroughly, as schlatt continues to tease you, as he cocks up one of his eyebrow

“ oh shut up schlatt, you know what i mean “ you chuckle as schlatt sighs, pecking your cheek, “ … okay okay i get it… but you know.. uh.. what about our own children? “

“ our children? “ you repeat, blinking in surprise, “ h-huh…? “ you ask as schlatt caresses your hair

“ toots… i… wanna have children with you “ schlatt confesses, “ our marriage is in 3 weeks… “

“ come on… please… ever since lud’s show… i wanna just… fucking bend you over and fill you up with babies toots.. “ he leans his face on your neck, as your body shivered, feeling his hot breath on your neck

“ jay..! “ you exclaim, surprised, “ what? if you've only seen yourself taking care of those kids, you dont realize how much im excited to wife you up and make you carry my children so badly “ he caresses you hair

“ y/n… babe… please “ he starts pecking your neck, “ toots… please… let me fill you up, let me see you carry our children “

“ … jay “ that's the word that you can mutter out, “ can we do it? “ he gently asks as you take a deep breather, before slowly nodding, “ … okay “

“ fuck… im gonna make love to you all night holy shit “ he chuckles in success as he easily carries you up from your desk as you squeal, surprised

the two of you lock lips, kissing eachother as schlatt holds your back for support before gently setting you down on your guy's bed, hungrily devouring your lips but being so gentle as he slips his hand in your shirt

fondling with your breast, that's why he preferred whenever you don't wear any bras, for easy access if yk what i mean

he gently removes your shirt, liking how your nipples perk up, as he breaks the kiss a string of saliva connects your lips, as he kisses your breast, his lips sucking on your nipples as he looks up at you with those endearing eyes of his

“ angh… jay “ you moan out as he trace kisses all over your body until it reaches your hips, his hand gently guiding you as he removes your pants and panties

“ does it feel good? “ he asks, as he threw your last piece of clothing on your bedroom's floor, as you nod in response, “ i want you to feel so good okay? “ schlatt smiles

as he gently divides your legs, making you spread out for him, “ fuck… how do you get this wet so easily? “ schlatt states before gently entering a finger in, causing you to gasp

“ because… you make me so wet “ you chuckle softly as schlatt chuckes too, slowly thrusting his finger in and out as he leans in to peck your clit

he savors your pussy as he digs himself in, tasting you as he moans out while you arch your back in pleasure, holding onto his hair as you moan his name out, “ jay… fuck “

he swirls his tongue in, fucking your hole with his tongue, he can feel your flaps flutter as he continues on

he licks your clit, swirling his tongue around it even sucking it, “ feels so good toots? feels so good hm? “ he repeats, mumbling as he eats you out

“ yes… yes… ah… schlatt “ you gently pulls on his hair as he continues to thrust his finger in while tongue fucking you, adding another finger causing you to gasp again as you rolls your eyes back

you wrap your legs around his head, locking him in as he notices your breath fastening, you're close, he continues to lick you out as your moans are getting louder and louder every second

“ b-babe… ugh… im cumming “ you breathe out but immediately regretted it as schlatt pulls away, as you whine, “ what the fuck “ you groan out, now pouting

“ dont look at me like that “ schlatt chuckles, “ im not letting my wife get an orgasm because i ate her out “ he replies as he unties his jogs, lowering it revealing his hard dick, not wearing any underwear since it's only you two home

“ remember, our focus here is getting you pregnant with our healthy babies, not tongue fucking you until you're pleasured “ he smiles, teasing you as he pats your cheek, pecking you

he slowly pushes his tip in, teasing you as he rubs it on your clit, “ then get me pregnant already… you're just teasing me at this point “ you pout as he slaps the side of your hips

“ so impatient, are you this eager to be a mother already? “ schlatt pushes his whole size in, gasping, feeling his dick fill you up, you can feel it throbbing inside you

“ fuck! “ you gasp out, as schlatt holds your hips, slamming his dick inside of you, as you gasp again, moaning, enjoying how you easily bounce off just from a thrust

“ you look more prettier like this, “ he teases you, leaning in as he folds your body in half just to able to lock lips with you again, “ i should fuck you everyday so we can be sure you get pregnant “ he added

his rolls his hips, his hands trailing all over your body, touching every part of you, his hands trace your curves, admiring your shape and body

kissing your forehead, cheek, neck, everywhere, this man makes you feel loved everytime, “ you're gonna look so pretty with my kids, yeah? “ schlatt fucks you up

“ you're gonna be my little pretty wife okay, gonna see you carry our kids, gonna make you be a pretty little housewife “

after saying those you can feel his pace fasten, god, it really does feel different without the rubber, you thought, as your room fills with moans, skin slapping, thrusts, groans and squelches

“ ah ngh jay- jay- please… “ you moan out, pulling on his hair as you can feel him throb, his thrusts getting aggressive every second as your body limps in pleasure

“ im cumming.. im cumming.. baby, toots.. ugh.. im gonna fill you up, im gonna fill you up with my babies, you're gonna… fuck… look so pretty pregnant, you're gonna be the most prettiest.. fucking housewife ever “ schlatt starts to peck your face before catching your lips

the two of you kiss, your tongues tangled with eachother as he finally cums inside of you, while you squirt your juices, unison with his orgasm, schlatt pulls out, chuckling in amusement as he sees his semen leaks out of you

“ fuck… you're gonna be a the mother of our children soon “ he smiles, pushing his finger in to keep his semen from leaking

-

a full year had passed, your child was finally brought on the world, you sigh out as you publish a new video, as you look behind, seeing schlatt was holding your daughter, carrying her as he smiles at you

“ is she asleep? “ you stand up, approaching them, “ surprisingly yeah, she's been behaving for me “ schlatt gently caresses your daughter face

admiring as the 3 month old scrunches her face in her sleep, “ she's a big mama’s girl huh? “ you ask, as schlatt nods, “ i think she loves you more than me “

“ but in her defense, if you're my mom id prefer you “ schlatt jokes as you chuckle, leaning your head onto his shoulder

#chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich #jschlatt #schlatt #sleep deprived podcast #jschlatt x reader #schlatt fanfic #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x reader smut #jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt smut #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader smut #schlatt smut

[xxchumanixx]

Hey can you do one where reader (reader is Nyla rookie) is secretly engaged to Tim and Nyla starts to ask the reader questions about who she’s engaged to because the reader forgot to take her ring off before she got to work, and it’s plain clothes day and reader pulls Tim over on his day off because he was speeding ( he was doing something for his sister) and Nyla doesn’t know that is was Tim in the car until the next day when he comes back to work and Nyla and Angela starts to put two and two together

Elephant in the room

Tim Bradford x fiance!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a little angst

Word count: tba

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! It was really fun to write and I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!

She just wouldn't stop.

Ever since she saw the glittery and shiny engagement ring on your finger - of course it had to be one, 'cause it was just so shiny - she wouldn't stop asking questions.

Asking questions was an understatement, though - for someone who barely talked about her private life herself, she was really good at squeezing every bit of information out of you.

You had forgotten to take if off before heading to work, not even noticing until it was too late.

It was plain clothes day, she wasn't even supposed to talk, yet Nyla freakin' Harper wouldn't shut up.

Jaw clenched you tried to ignore her, until she threatened to make you fail.

"Wait what?" you almost screeched, parking at a sidewalk to turn towards her in your seat. She was smirking to herself, a shit eating grin that told you 'I have your future in my hands'.

And damn it, she had.

"I'm engaged." you pressed out through clenched teeth, trying to act nonchalant about it with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Do I know him?" she pressed further, and you bit your cheek.

She in fact did know him, but you would never tell her. At least not now, not when you were still her rookie, having promised Grey and Tim not to talk about it, until your training was done.

Which it would be in two weeks.

But the look she was giving you, gave you the sense of feeling that she'd give you a hard time, until you'd finally crack and tell her.

Which you couldn't.

Damn it.

Her brows rose, urging you to answer her question.

"No...?" you answered vaguely, and her head tilted with a pointed look. She didn't believe you for a second.

To be honest, you wouldn't have either.

"Do I?" she questioned, leaning closer. She tried to analyze you, see if you were lying to her.

"I mean, maybe you've met him at a grocery store, who knows?" you tried to shrug it off, heart racing in your chest, threatening to burst out of it any moment, at the look she was giving you.

If she wouldn't have been your TO, she would have made a good friend - whom you might have told, but she wasn't.

Yet, you hoped. She was a great person, and you could only hope to stay on her good side for the rest of your days.

"Mhhmmm..." she made, the sound drawn out, as she leaned back in her seat. "Maybe."

You breathed a sigh of relief inwardly, as someone sped past you on the otherwise quiet street.

Huffing to yourself, you turned on the siren, following the car as you motioned for them to turn over, though thankful for the distraction.

Only then did you notice what car it was - or rather whose.

Cursing under your breath, you had no other choice than to get out of the car now.

Approaching the car you were grateful it was plain clothes day, which meant that Nyla was staying near the shop, not having any sight into the car.

"Hello, do you know why I pulled you over?" you greeted, silently pleading he wouldn't act strange now.

"Driving too fast?" he guessed and you huffed to yourself again, biting your lip to stifle a laugh.

Never would you have thought you'd pull your own fiancé over.

Nodding, you took a step closer, almost crossing the line of getting too close; trying to ignore Nyla's boring gaze for the moment.

"Where are you heading to?" you asked, brows furrowed. "Everything okay?" He nodded at your second question, sending you a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, baby. Was heading to my sister's, she needs something done in her new house, but she has to work in an hour." he explained, biting his lip.

His sister had just recently moved to LA, after divorcing her now ex-husband.

"Tim, you know you should stick to the speed limit, even if you're late!" you quietly scolded him, brows drawn together. "What about being a good cop and all?"

He sighed, chuckling under his breath at your words and you couldn't help but split a smile as well, before clearing your throat, suddenly aware again, that Nyla was watching you.

"I'll let you go this time, sir, but please try and not drive too fast again." you spoke louder, knowing she'd hear.

He laughed quietly at that, blowing you a kiss.

"I love you." he told you, sending you a smile. "Thank you."

You nodded, smiling back. "Love you too. See you later."

Patting the rolled down window, you bid him goodbye, watching as he drove away.

When you returned, Nyla looked at you suspiciously. She knew the car, it seemed oddly familar, but she just couldn't place where from. Your behavior though, she was able to place.

"That your fiancé?" she shot straight to the point, as you two climbed back into the shop. Swallowing, you took a deep breath, stalling.

"Yep." you then announced, fingers nervously drumming on the steering wheel. She hummed, nodding. "Well then, good you didn't give him a ticket." she mused, brows wiggling. "Who knows, maybe he wouldn't want to marry you anymore if you did?"

Rolling your eyes, you started the shop, shaking your head with a smile.

She really was one of a kind.

_____

"Oh my freakin' sweet Jesus!" Nyla exclaimed quietly, eyes wide as she stared at the car that was parked a few feet away.

It was the same you had pulled over yesterday.

Angela, who was walking beside her, stopped as Nyla did, confusion etched into her features.

"What's up with you?" she wanted to know, stiffling a yawn, not feeling quiet ready for a demanding conversation at this unholy hour in the morning.

"When I was on shift with Y/L/N yesterday, she told me she's engaged. Pulled that car over and guess what: it was the fiancé she refuses to tell me the identity off!"

Angela's eyes widened, nearly dropping her coffee as she stared at Nyla, who's brows knitted together at her look.

"That's Bradford's car!" Angela exclaimed in a hushed whisper, suddenly wide awake. Nyla's eyes could have competed with dinner plates at the size they became at the information.

And realization.

Tim Bradford was your fiancé.

Your fiancé was Tim motherfucking Bradford.

Nyla's mouth opened and closed like a fish's, not quiet grasping the words she was searching for, as her eyes went back to the truck.

No fucking way.

"That little-!" she exclaimed, staring at Angela in shock.

She was as equally as shocked as her friend, though she soon started to grin. "Who would have imagined?" she quipped, taking a sip of her coffee.

Nyla's head shook, still trying to wrap her mind around the information.

Oh, you were definitely in for something.

And you were.

You should have known something was up, when Nyla brought you a coffee, even smiling at you like she did when she was pregnant and couldn't control her hormones, scaring everyone.

You really should have known.

Especially when she offered to drive.

"Had a nice evening yesterday?" she asked with a smile. "After pulling over your own fiancé?"

She chuckled heartily at that, and that's what should have made you jump out of the shop, take your legs in your hands and run for your dear life.

Yet you were dumb enough to step right into her trap.

"Yeah, he wasn't mad, said he was glad I didn't spare him just because he was my fiancé and pulled him over nonetheless."

She hummed to herself in agreement, nodding along to it.

"And what did he say was the reason he was breaking the speed limit?"

Your brows furrowed, but you didn't question her. "Wanted to help his sister fix something over at her new house. She just moved here."

Nyla nodded again, lips pursed.

"Bradford's nice to help his little sister that much."

You stiffened at her words, thoughts crashing to a halt. She caught you - but how?

She smirked to herself, a dangerous one that told you not to lie to her now, or else you would regret it for the rest of your life.

Biting your lip, you sank further into your seat with your cheeks ablaze, praying the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I mean I get it." she spoke, eyes fixed on the street. "But lying to your TO? Nuh-uh."

"I'm sorry." you apologized, gaze fixed on your entwined hands, that started to sweat profusely. "But I had to promise Tim and Grey not to tell anyone."

She huffed, chuckling under her breath.

"Well, I'm a detective - and a good one." she told you, sending you a pointed look. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

That she only did with Angela's help, she didn't mention. She wanted to see you suffer, at least a little bit. That didn't mean she wasn't happy for you, though.

You were a lucky one with Tim Bradford as your soon to be husband.

"I expect an invitation for the wedding, of course."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed.

"Please, as if you wouldn't have been invited anyways." you retorted, sending her a pointed look.

She smiled at that, failing to hide it.

"Good."

_____

"Harper knows."

"Angela knows."

"Wait, what?" you both made, brows furrowed.

"Oh my, really should have expected it." you sighed, shaking your head. "Somehow, Nyla found out about it. I bet her and Angela did together."

Tim nodded at that, biting his lip. "Figured."

Sighing, you took off your jacket, before hanging it on the clothing rack. You didn't even get to greet him properly, having to get the news off your chest first.

He crossed the distance, wrapping his arms around you as his eyes met yours. "Should have expected that to happen." he said, lips pursed and you nodded.

"Yeah, they're detectives - and they're good at it." you repeated what Nyla had said earlier, causing Tim to chuckle. "Yeah, 'course she said that."

He leaned down and kissed you, tongue brushing yours, as your hands locked behind his neck.

"Not long and we can tell everyone." he promised, forehead leaning against yours. "And I'm glad when they finally know. Hate lying to them."

You nodded in agreement, pecking his lips again. "Me too."

He walked you backwards, lips brushing yours. "I love you." he murmured, blindly navigating you, and you sighed happily. It still felt like the first time, whenever he said it.

"I love you, too."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@augustvandyne @RookieTrek

@dhunhdchrih @nachofriess

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #imagine

[envysparkler]

Natalia gets out of the car to stare at a row of oceanfront warehouses that are, remarkably, not on fire.

“Huh,” she says to her partner.  “I thought you said Hood called this in.”

“I did!” Isha remarks, as upbeat as ever.  “Maybe he’s gotten therapy for those pyromaniac tendencies.”

Natalia snorts.  Fat chance.  The Bats are allergic to therapy—anyone who dresses up to fight crime is certainly not dealing with their feelings in a constructive manner.  Before she can point out to Isha that every one of the agents in their office are woefully behind on their mandated therapy—it’s hard finding a decent therapist that isn’t also moonlighting at Arkham, and no one wants to drive to Metropolis and traumatize those poor counselors—her phone rings.

She stares at the familiar name and exhales slowly.  “Boyfriend?” Isha remarks with a knowing smile.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Natalia snaps.  She’s not supposed to be answering personal calls while she’s doing her job, but Rafa can and will start calling everyone around her if she doesn’t pick up.  He’s gotten a bit clingy since he found out that Deathstroke is her neighbor.  Isha, for some reason, finds it cute.

“Hi Rafa, good evening, I haven’t been murdered yet,” she answers, turning away from Isha’s smirk.

“That sounds great, queriña,” Rafa chirps.  “How are the neighbors?”

“Existing,” Natalia replies.  “You know, you really have to stop these check-in calls.  Dick isn’t going to hurt me, Slade doesn’t take contracts in Gotham, and people have stopped believing me when I say you’re not my boyfriend.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“Rafa,” Natalia rolls her eyes.

“You would not be having these problems if you came back to San Diego like I suggested,” Rafa offers.

“I’d love to come back to San Diego,” Natalia says, “I really would, if it weren’t for the minor problem of all the people there that want me dead.”

“Gotham has people who want you dead,” Rafa says darkly.

“Gotham also has people who want me alive,” Natalia says.

“I want you alive.”

“And if Gustavo del Toro asked you to again get rid of the pesky FBI-agent-shaped thorn in his side, this time permanently?”

Silence.

“Goodbye, Rafa,” she says with a tone of finality, and cuts the call.  She’s lost patience with his protectiveness, coming as it does with terms and conditions.   She’d consider changing her number, but it didn’t work the last time, and besides, she has bigger problems than a sulky assassin on the other side of the country.

“How’s the boyfriend doing, Agent Padilla?” a mechanized voice asks.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Natalia growls as she spins to face the Red Hood.  Hood raises gloved hands in the universal sign of placation.  “Did your explosives fail to detonate or did you run out of bombs, Hood?  I know it’s too much to hope that you decided not to make our jobs more difficult by setting all our evidence on fire.”

“I prefer to think of it as cleansing.”

“And I prefer to get home to bed at a reasonable hour, but clearly that isn’t working out for me,” Natalia says coolly.  “What do you have for us?”

#my snippets #outsider pov #deleted scene #from a follow-up to 'seeing is believing'

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Hey Love your stuff! The Vs being protective of Retro, preventing them remembering anything bad or near murder that they do, is actually cute considering what Retro's dark side.

So here is a thought I had after reading Valentino covering up his near murder that Retro saw. What if Retro, most likely in the tower as i can't picture them ever doing this in public, was to try and flirt with Vox and Val?

I don't expect anything more than Retro maybe trying on a risky outfit, maybe getting nervous, and getting caught of course.

I just wonder how they would react as Retro making that kinda move seems outta character for your wonderfully created Hidden Serious killer 'house wife' Sea Bunny.

Sorry if my suggestion made you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it.

Anon, you are amazing. Don’t worry about it at all! I actually have a really adorable idea because of this, and I hope you like it! (Slight spice warning? I guess. It’s just a picture of the outfit in question, nothing really happens)

Something New!

“Vel, babe,” I said, with a nervous smile. “I have a teensy tiny favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?” Velvette asked, over the phone. She motioned for her models to shut up. “And what would that be?”

“Just- please come to my room when you can,” I said quietly. I was already blushing, and I hadn’t even told her what this was about.

“Of course! I’ll be over before you know it,” she said with a grin. I never asked for favors, much less from her. She knew that whatever this was, it would be good. “Love ya sweetheart, see you soon!”

“Love you too,” I said, a small smile on my face.

She hung up and dropped everything. “Everyone! Leave! Now!” She said, pointing towards the door. “I’ve got an emergency to cover.” She made another call on her phone. “Yeah, hey, Vox? Shut off the cameras.”

“What- why?” He asked, sounding suspicious. He was watching me fidget nervously in my bedroom- he was in his office, watching from the cameras- as I awaited Velvettes arrival. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all! If my hunch is correct, this could be great,” Velvette said, sounding excited. “I just need you to turn off your stalker cameras for a bit- at least the ones near and around Retro. If you’re watching, they might bail.”

“Bail on what?” Vox asked, sitting up straighter. “Vel, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” she said in a sing song voice, already headed to my room. “Nothing you need to worry about, at least. This will be fun, trust me.”

“Fine.”

“Yes!”

“But you only get two hours,” Vox said sternly. “Then the cameras are on and I get an explanation, understand?”

“You got it, babes,” Velvette said with a grin. She hung up and knocked on my door. “Retro? I’m here, love. May I come in?”

“Hm?” I looked at the door, surprised. She’d gotten here quick. I opened the door and stepped aside, letting her in my room. “Uh, yeah, definitely.” I closed the door behind her. “Uh. Don’t you- I thought you had work?”

“Hm? Oh yes, it was a slow day,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Now, what was that favor you needed?”

“Oh! Right,” I said, my face heating up already. I looked away and sat on my bed, fidgeting again. “I, uh… I was wondering….”

“You were wondering,” Velvette repeated, sitting down besides me. My reaction was practically confirmation of her guess, but she wanted to hear it from me. “What is it, love? You know I can’t help unless you tell me.”

“Can you- could you help me find a good outfit to wear?” I blurted. God, I was so tense and nervous. It was silly, really. This wouldn’t be my first time wearing something risky, but I was still anxious about it. I loved them, and I was afraid I’d screw it up. I was having second thoughts already. “Something for Vox and Valentino. Something they’d like.”

“Oh!” Velvette said. She put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. She thought it was something of this nature, but to have me actually say it? Me admitting it? Damn. The way I was acting made it adorable to her. “You want something… suggestive? Or just showy?”

“W-what?” I asked, looking at her. Now I was confused. “Wait, there’s a difference? What?”

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “I have so much to teach you.”

For what seemed like forever, Velvette showed me an outfit and I said no. She was showing me lingerie, bondage gear, and the like. She quickly realized I was not used to this sort of thing (and I didn’t want to do anything, I just wanted to tease the boys), and toned it down. Eventually, we settled on a top and some normal pants.

(Left if you don’t have tits, right if you do. Or you could wear something else, I don’t care. I just don’t know how to describe this lol)

So, I got changed and hesitantly walked out from behind my dressing screen to show Velvette the outfit.

“So, uh… what do you think?” I asked, doing a little twirl for her. “Do you think they’ll like it?”

“Oh. My. God.” She gasped and walked over, admiring how I looked, and her handiwork. “Babes, you have got to do this more often! You look stunning. Here, let me get a picture.”

“No! No,” I said immediately pulling away. I was blushing furiously. “Please don’t. Oh my god, I should’ve known this was a bad idea. God, I feel so stupid…”

Velvette frowned, looking disappointed. She felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant to make me feel that way, she just wanted something to remember the occasion. She reached out to explain, but before she could, the door opened. Vox and Valentino walked in, looking serious.

“Alright, times up,” Vox said sternly. “I turned off the cameras, now I expect an-” he cut himself off when he saw me.

“Oh,” Valentino said with a grin. “This. I like this.”

“Fuck! Fuck, no, shit- you aren’t supposed to- oh my god,” I panicked, ducking behind my dressing screen. My face was as red as a tomato. I was so embarrassed. “Please leave!”

“Wait, what?” Vox asked, looking to Velvette. He was confused by my reaction. Was he not supposed to see me like this? Hadn’t I just spent the past two hours preparing for this? Why was I reacting this way? He wondered if he did something wrong. “Did I…?”

“No, it’s not you,” Velvette said quickly. She stood and walked over to the two, looking guilty. “They’re just… a bit shy. They aren’t used to this, you know? I kind of startled them, by accident, just before you came in.”

“Oh,” Vox said. He was still processing. And overheating slightly.

“Honey bunny,” Val said softly, approaching the dressing screen slowly. “It’s okay. We didn’t- we don’t-” he sighed. He had no idea what to say. “Sweetheart..”

“It was a silly idea,” I said quietly, on the other side of the screen. I was sitting on the floor, my knees tucked to my chest. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he said. “May I…? Please?”

I didn’t respond but I didn’t stop him, either. I was conflicted. I wanted them to see, I was just afraid. I was afraid of a negative reaction. “I… I guess.”

He pushed the dressing screen aside and folded it up, then sat down next to me. “Come here, mi amor, it’s okay,” he said gently. He reached out to touch me, but didn’t, awaiting my permission. He was being so considerate, it was unlike him. I leaned towards him, allowing him to touch me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. “You look beautiful,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist. He pulled me up against him.

“Thank you,” I said, with a small smile.

I looked over at Vox, who seemed on the verge of a system crash. His screen was flickering and he was clearly overheating just at the sight of me. Velvette was trying to help. She was not very successful. I laughed a little to myself and smiled wider- more genuine.

“He likes it too, you know,” Val said, nudging me playfully.

“I can tell,” I said, my expression softening. I was less tense now, more relaxed. “I’m glad.”

“So… will you be doing this again?” He asked with a grin.

“We’ll see,” I said with a small laugh. “I’m not sure Vox could handle it.”

“He’ll just have to get used to it! I won’t let him stop me from seeing you all dolled up and gorgeous like this,” Valentino said with a playful huff. He gently ran his fingers along my bare skin. “You look wonderful, mi cariño.”

“I agree!” Vox said, apparently having snapped out of his little spiral. His screen had a pink tinge to it- I imagined that was his way of blushing- but he had a smile on his face. He walked over and sat with us, Velvette following close behind. “I’d love to see you like this more, if you’re comfortable with it. You look stunning, either way, my dear.”

“Thank you,” I said, blushing again. He chuckled and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

“Not a problem, darling,” he said softly. He gave me a kiss on the top of my head and smiled wider. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I love them more than you!” Velvette declared.

“Hey!”

“I love them most!”

“HEY!”

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #reader insert #valentino x reader x vox #vox x reader x valentino #vox x valentino x reader #vox x valentino #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #the vees #the vees x reader #thanks anon!

[quitealotofsodapop]

So if Wukong didn't know MK was playing superhero, why was he able to be caught by Spider Queen? The answer is clear. He took the younger cubs down to see the parade. That way, he could be closer to the fireworks, and his kids are entertained. He ended up being caught up in the initial attack and discovered MK playing hero while trying to evacuate the cubs away from the angry spider lady trying to turn people into spider zombies.

Wukong is not happy, but at this point there are far more important things to deal with. He orders MK to get his siblings somewhere safe while he handles Spider Queen. When MK protests, he tells him that MK's arachnophobia would only get in the way, and he is still Sun Wukong, the gods be damned Great Sage Equal To Heaven and the Monkey King. He isn't so far into his retirement that he can't put an upstart little princess in her place.

The plan backfires and Wukong gets captured by LBD and Spider Queen, of course, but hey, the Noodle Crew gets to meet MK's siblings! Sandy babysits them while they're in Heaven trying to get the stuff. All they know of it is that MK's mom was caught by the Spider Queen, they don't know yet exactly who his parent is. Not until much later when Wukong and DBK break out of their bonds and save them.

"Holy shit, is that Sun Wukong!?" ;Probably Tang

"Mom!" :MK

"MOM!?" :Literally eveyone

After all is said and dine Wukong makes good on his promise of a long talk, or rather lecture, and MK is grounded.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD BE SO RECKLESS! Xiaotian, your father an I taught you better than this! What were you thinking!?"

"But when you were my age you were at war with Heaven, though!"

"And look what that got me! Thrown in a furnace and pinned under a mountain for 500 years! What you did was stupid and reckless. What if you'd gotten hurt!? Your still mortal, MK!"

Referencing.

Yesss. Wukong canonically adores New Years, and I def agree that love extends to the cubs too.

Wukong does a "surprise" visit to Megapolis to show the younger cubs the New Years Parade + check up on his eldest while MK is helping Pigsy with the foodtruck. Likely all in glamours, but MK 100% gets an embarassing visit from his mom at work. The Noodle shop gang tease him endlessly about it.

Then cue the Spider Queen's invasion, and Wukong giving MK the cubs to watch for the moment while he Kings Up. MK doesn't want his mom to go in his condition, but Wukong is still The Monkey King, and has no idea that his son has been superhero-ing for the past couple of months.

The gang all meet up on Sandy's airship, and the kiddos glamours all drop from stress. This is where the gang confirms (they had suspiscions) that MK is a disguised demon - they dont mind since thats sadly common in human-dominated cities. MK specifically being a monkey demon gets Tang asking questions though.

Red Son shows up and has a brain-fart mid-plan when he recognises who "Noodle Boy" actually is;

Red Son: "Xiaotian!? I haven't seen you since we were calves! This explains so much!"

MK, nervous sweating: "Not now dude! My mom got captured by the Spider Queen, and my dad is MIA right now."

Red Son: "Ah but of course. Seems we have the same predicament then. No fear, I have a plan to defeat the Spider Queen and save our respective parents."

Tang, panic-nerding: "MK, how do you know Red Son!?"

MK, flash of SWK-esque anger: "NOT NOW."

The gang get to the Celestial Realm and retrieve what they need to make the antidote - though not without attracting the attention of a certain hound that just realised her fave monkey is here.

MK, petting the dog: "I'm sorry Quan. I can't play right now! I'm saving the city."

Xiaotian Quan: (*sad whine!*)

Meanwhile at the Spider Mech; DBK has finally met his little brother/enemy once again. DBK in his anger, yells about Sun Wukong's "little-thief successor MK" ruining so many of his family's attempts at gaining power, and Wukong just blanks;

Wukong, scary parent voice: "Xiaotian has been doing what!?"

DBK: "The Little Thief is Xiaotian!?"

DBK would also shout at Wukong for putting himself in danger in his condition, but quiets when he learns that Macaque is missing. Tieshan had seemed worried since DBK got back (infact, maybe its why she decided to free him), and everyone knows that the shadow monkey wouldn't leave his mate without reason. When LBD arrives, DBK and Wukong immediate get a chill up their spines. They both know that she's somehow involved with Mac's disappearance... DBK has his super-saiyan moment of worried-anger and frees both himself and his xiandi so that they can find their reckless kids.

The Noodle Shop gang (+ Red Son and the cubs) bust on through with the spider-venom antidote and manage to subdue the Spider Queen with their combined forces.

Tang is about to fanboy at the sight of Sun Wukong in the flesh when MK and the cubs yell something that shatters his preconceptions.

MK & the cubs: "Mom!" "Mama!"

Noodle Shop Gang: "MOM?!?"

Wukong, swarmed by baby monkeys: "Thank Nuwa you're all ok!" (*hugs them all tight*)

Wukong: (*suddenly bonks MK on head with a sandal*)

Wukong: "And you! How dare you not tell me that you've been fighting demons this whole time! You told me you were only getting a job for mortal experience!"

MK: "But mom! I did get a job! I've been using my spare time trying to figure out what happened to dad!"

Wukong: "Which I specifically told you Not to do!! Your father has gotten himself tangled up with a very dangerous witch and I'm not letting you run into one of her traps!"

Noddle Shop Gang + DB fam: (*standing at a safe distance from the yelling*)

Tang, dizzy with excitement: "Anyone else feel like they're in a fantasy right now?"

Mei: "Hm, not really. I knew Xiaotian since we were pups. My grunkle Ao Lie is the same dragon-horse from the stories."

Tang: "Excuse me!?"

Erlang shows up on Earth asking Wukong tf just happened - his third eye showed him the chaos in the Celestial Realm and Lao Tzu is pissed for his missing pills and Furnace. But he immediately leaves when he sees tje carnage of a saved mortal city + Sun Wukong. (Erlang: "Ah. Say no more.")

#post jttw stone egged au #jttw stone egged au #sun wukong #dad sun wukong #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #lmk dbk #lmk red son #lmk demon bull king #lmk tang #lmk mei #long xiaojiao #shadowpeach #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

[penaltyboxboxbox]

i love ur charlos parents au sm!! im not requesting art or anything if u dont feel like drawing (tho youre a phenomenal artist!!), but i was wondering if you wanted to share any more details abt the au? i thinks its so cute haha and would love to know more. also hope ur having a great day!

I LOVE THIS AU TOO i do want to draw more i always have ideas for it.... but i will gladly ramble about my lore ive developed

1. is this an mpreg au even i do not know or care to know. yes these are their biological children who look like them and share their genes but how did we get here ill leave that to you to assume. either way both of them definitely wanted big families and even tho i draw them with 2 kids i think they want at least 4..... charles wants a daughter and carlos says the same but secretly he only wants sons. hes picturing a future football team and also doesn't understand women conceptually

2. i actually think carlos3 was an accident child and charlos get shotgun married over it. its part of the reason why theres a bit of a gap between their first and second child. they had to like reassess and settle stuff after kind of having to get their shit together and make honest men of each other.

3. they get divorced at some point during all this mainly due to SAINZ SENIOR PRESSURE. probably while carlos3 is like highschool age. charles talks so much shit and then proceeds to get emotional like I SHOULDNT TALK ABOUT YOUR FATHER THIS WAY vs carlos like. bro tries to just act like they are normal regular friends now like man thats not how this works....charles always plays cool irl but is annoyed as hell underneath. very good coparents though....always at all the events together. when the kids stay at sainz family evil mansion for the summer they come back to charles so villainous and feral. he has to go supernanny on them...

4. charlos DO get back together after like 10 years of being separated lol. and yeah there were lots of messy nights out and not quite reconciliations throughout that time. very confusing family dynamic but theyre happy at the end

5. carlos3 grows up to be a guy who just kind of piggybacks onto whatever business endeavors his dads are doing. ultimate nepotism hire. hes not bad at what hes doing he just never really found that passion. his passion is like.....posting peaky blinders quotes on instagram. hes kind of a failson but hes also the perpetual baby for charlos so they just...coddled him too much his whole life djhdksndksbs.... younger son herve becomes a FASHION MODEL!!!! hes beautiful gorgeous and also a perfect nepo child so he's ripe for this career....he walks runways in paris

thats all i can think of for now thankssssss ily

#ask #parents au

[sansxfuckyou]

nowhere to hide out in the open

summary: the one good thing about these 'Genre Peace' meetings, it would be that Delta Dawn has an excuse to be next to Queen Essence

warnings: its just fluff

authors note: EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @ohposhers FOR DRAGGING ME OUT OF RETIREMENT BY MAKING DELTESSENCE REAL INSTEAD OF LETTING IT ROT IN OUR DM'S FROM MARCH, LITERALLY DRAGGED THIS FIC OUT FROM THE BACK AND FINISHED IT UP IN 2 HOURS NOT EVEN. anyways hope ya'll enjoy and if ya do consider dropping a reblog or checkin' the Ao3 port

To be frank, Delta Dawn didn't necessarily enjoy the fact that the genre leaders had to meet up in Funk's spaceship of sorts; they called it Vibe City. The deck may have been solid beneath her hooves and the air perfectly metered in temperature, but it still felt wrong. Just something made her feel off about living up here, especially when they used to inhabit the deserts and oasis's below.

The only plus was the fact that she was allowed a seat next to Queen Essence, Funk's co-ruler. Pale blue fur and glistening silver tinsel littered across her form and like necklaces on her neck. A spattering of glitter on her face and golden adornments in her hair, voice a gentle timbre and comfy pace-

Delta Dawn definitely enjoyed her, and the fact that she was married with children.

"Now, Queen Poppy, are you sure we really need to unite geographically as well?" Trollzart asked, and the annoying sound of his voice snapped Delta out of it. He sounded like a 'woodwind,' as the Classical's called those instruments.

"Yeah, Popseed, I quite like Volcano Rock City. The Rocker's need some heat to keep us going," Barb tacked on, voice sharp as always with a blunt edge that Delta respected. Even if the gal tried to destroy all music, she had good work ethic.

Poppy gave a nervous laugh, "Well we could at least try making a place where the cross-genre's and genrefluid Trolls could exist in peace?"

"A utopia," King Quincy supplies.

"A Trollstopia, if you will," Queen Essence adds on.

"The only problem with that is the Techno's, they can't be out of water for prolonged periods of time," Branch said. He was already splaying out blueprints, "I'll work on a fix."

"I can help manufacture it," Trollex said and his voice also had an annoying sting too it out of water, oddly synthetic but natural to their speciation.

"Dawn," Queen Essence said, and it took Delta a moment to realize she was referring to her.

The sheriff of Country nodded, "Yes, miss Essence?" Country sensibilities sneaking into her speech again, she really hopes that isn't an offence in Funk.

Instead it makes Queen Essence smile, "Do you have any objections to this Trollstopia?" There's a softness to her tone, a calm that Delta doesn't know too well. Everyone's much gruffer in Country, more to the point and strict about it. Working together is loving each other and tussling in a rodeo is a love language.

Funk Trolls are so... Different, in a refreshing way of course. It's confusing too, Delta never took herself for a romantic, but the Queen is doing something to her. And it's just how she exists too, even when they aren't interacting she's just like this. Smooth and calm and with an amount of allure that Delta is sure must be practiced in advance.

"I got no objections to it, I think it's a great idea," Delta said before standing up and pushing aside the cushion she sat upon. At the slightest hint of Poppy going to speak up, she waved it off, "I'm fine, Queen Poppy, I just need to stretch my legs, get some water."

Her hooves clicked uncomfortably against the metal-adjacent platforms below her. She rubbed her temples as she walked, taking long, deep breaths to try and compose herself. How on earth do they expect her to keep it together when they put her beside Queen Essence? She shouldn't be getting this worked up over a married Troll.

"Dawn, you're probably gonna need some help finding the vending machines," Came a gentle voice from behind her and all she could do was freeze up.

"Naw, I'll be fine, Queen Essence," Delta said, turning to give her an affirming smile. It looked kind of forced.

"Please, just call me Essence," She said before leading Delta along and the sheriff followed without questioning her own actions despite her previous defiance.

Delta gives a huffing sort of sound, it earns her a perplexed look before she remembers that the Funk Trolls don't have that in their lexicon, "Then I have ta ask that you call me Delta."

Essence gives a long hum as she pads down the halls, her paws are near silent against the flooring. A stark contrast to the clip-clop of Delta's hooves, "I'll see what I can do for you."

The slight teasing lilt coupled with a small chuckle has Delta going mad. She trots up closer to the queen of Funk and follows her obediently down the halls. The swirled design of Funk architecture matches the consistent beat thrumming below them in the main corridors. It pulses with a faint glow, so subtle it's almost unnoticable unless you really look close- and Delta needs something to stare at that isn't her guide.

When they come to a stop Essence grabs her a bottle of water, gifted in return for a small melody in a genre Delta doesn't know well. It's interesting technology really, maybe Country is outdated after all. Then she remembers that Pop still lives in the woods and hasn't rebuilt after they had their empire swept out from under their feet by the Bergens. Her genre isn't too far behind, and Funk is highly advanced anyways.

"So, Delta, what's got you down?" Essence asked, dropping down to sit with folded legs on a cushion. Delta followed suit, a low table between them, and she didn't quite sit the same way Funk Trolls did but she made it happen.

"Nothin's got me down," Delta said, twisting the cap off the bottle, "Don't know what gave you that idea."

Essence's brows furrowed, but she didn't narrow her gaze much. She just sighed, "I can't be offended that you don't want to tell me, but I can be offended that you think I can't see what's right in front of me."

That shakes Delta down to her core, she didn't expect Essence to have such keen observations as well. She nearly chokes on her water which has a tang too it, a hint of citrus flavouring perhaps? She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "I suppose I shouldn't treat ya like an idiot cause you're different than me."

"Some signs are universal," Essence said, "And your vibes aren't exactly feeling on point."

Delta gives a low laugh, "You have a point there, Queen Essence. You're mighty smart, mighty tenacious for waiting so long for your son to show up."

Essence smiles a smile that's so warm it contradicts the soothing frosted hue of her form. She tilts her head a bit as she smiles, a small laugh arising and she brings a paw to hide it. "I'm flattered, Dawn."

"Essence, you seem like the loving type," Delta begins, "Happily married and whatnot."

"So it's a romance problem you have."

She nods, "Yeah, that. What would you say is the best action for loving someone whose already set for life?"

That gives Essence pause, and she's more than clever enough to piece it together right then and there, but she still takes a moment. "In Funk we're usually pretty open, most relations are fluid and shifting states frequently."

"They are?" Delta asked a bit too fast.

"Of course they are, Delta. Are they not in other genres?" Essence asked, a genuine curiosity lacing her voice.

Delta shakes her head, "We're rather monogamous in Country."

"Tell me, Delta," Essence begins, a type of smile on her face that makes Delta shiver. Essence leans a little bit closer, "Is it me?"

"What gave it away, your majesty?" Delta asked.

"Country Trolls are very up front, it translates to the way you act," Essence explained before pressing a kiss to Delta's cheek. It left a silvery, snowy mark in its wake and Delta was too stunned to move. It made Essence giggle a bit.

"But, but you're royalty!" Delta managed to get out, "Doesn't royalty have ta keep a closed relationship?"

Essence shrugged and the tinsel shifted and coat the technicolor glow of Vibe City. "Quincy is understanding, I doubt he'd mind if we let you in for a bit."

"Well alright then." She's not in a cohesive enough mindset to get anything else out of her mouth. She's wearing this dumb grin on her face that's quick to fall.

Essence brings a paw to Delta's face, "What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothin' that needs to be worried about now," Delta brings her hand to rest on Essence's wrist, or ankle maybe? Delta isn't too sure of the proper terminology to use.

"You got your legs stretched out enough to head back, Dawn? They can't make much progress without Country," Essence asked.

"I'm ready," Delta said before standing up, she traced a digit across the lipstick mark on her cheek, "Say, won't this be incriminating evidence?"

"Quincy won't mind," Essence assured with a hum.

"The others?"

"They're in our home, we can evict them."

#trolls #trolls fanfic #trolls fanfiction #deltessence #trolls deltessence #delta dawn #queen essence #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

[aziraphales-library]

Hey! I'm not looking for a particular fic and maybe somebody's already asked this, but could you point me the way to kidfics where Crowley is the birthing parent? Idk if I'm just unlucky or bad at searching but it seems like almost all the 'one of them gives birth' fics have Aziraphale as the birth parent...

Hello! We do have a #pregnant crowley tag, so take a look at that. Here are some more fics to add to the collection...

Angel Baby by ARealPip (T)

Crowley is pregnant, and a group of doctors and nurses struggle valiantly to handle the gender-fluid inhuman patient who has suddenly shown up in their offices. Aziraphale does his very best to help put them at their ease. But it all goes a bit strange.

This Miraculous Child (Of Ours) by blackeyedblonde (E)

“Well?” Crowley asks, wretchedly pulling his sunglasses from his face. “Why isn’t your angelic juju doing me one better and nipping whatever this is in the arse?” The fact that Aziraphale has paled some himself and reached up to clutch at the front of his dressing gown doesn’t seem to bode well. “You—you’re with child, Crowley,” he says, just like that, in the messy parlor of this once-scourged effing bookshop in Soho where Crowley thought he’d lost the one thing he ever really cared about, the car be damned, since they unraveled into existence and millennia began.

More to Love by Sodium_Azide (E)

It's a new world, and the beginning of a new era. Crowley has never been happier in his long life, but, (ain't there always a but) he has his angel, he has his freedom, he has his Bentley and the whole world to explore, but he still wants more. Unexpectedly, he gets it. (an ineffable family fic)

The Way We're Made by dsaun (E)

After the almost-apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale attempt to settle back into their old routines. What they don't know is that their meddling in the great plan has piqued the creator's curiosity and she has other ideas. A drunken evening causes ineffable consequences and turns everything upside down.

beyond the river jordan by blackeyedblonde (E)

“I think it’s time we try and do the thing,” is what Crowley says, when the words finally wing up out of him one morning. “Do what, dear?” Aziraphale asks as he takes a scrubbing brush to the skillet they’d made eggs in. Behind them, Dove is smearing oatmeal and a bit of scramble around her highchair tray, blabbing good-naturedly in her little singsong voice while morning sunlight slants in just enough to make her strawberry hair shine like rose gold. “You know,” Crowley grunts, drying an antique porcelain plate with a particular furor that makes it consider breaking, though it wouldn’t dare so much as chip with the angel in the room. “Uh. Try again—for a baby. But swapped ‘round a bit so I do all the cooking.” Aziraphale calmly keeps up with his washing, though a little smile plays around his mouth and then gradually grows a bit wider. “Ah,” he says all too knowingly, which makes Crowley’s stomach lurch. “I’d been wondering when you’d feel ready to bring that up again.”

The Birds and the Bees for Ineffable Idiots by DarkAngel2891 (T)

Crowley doesn't know how reproduction works. Aziraphale is at a loss for words. Whatever the two where expecting it wasn't this. God ships Crowley and Aziraphale.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #pregnant crowley #pregnancy #mpreg #female presenting crowley #kid fic #mod d

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Why I Love Crosshair- A Story About Persevering

I talk about Crosshair so much on my blog. With TBB ending in a few days, I wanted to share with y'all why he resonates with me so deeply. This show and these characters have touched the hearts of so many in this fandom. I'm curious, which Batcher has resonated with you? Anyways, here we go!

Crosshair's hot. That's it. I'm a simple woman. Moving on.

He's really freaking cool- I'm not gonna like, seeing Crosshair make those trick shots has me on the edge of my seat. It's just so much fun to watch someone do an incredible skill whether it's dance, playing music, or in Crosshair's case, take out several battle droids with one shot. I love it.

His character arc- Crosshair is one of the most interesting and complex characters I've met in recent years. I'm not going to lie, it's refreshing to see a really well-written morally grey character. Crosshair's one and only loyalty is to his family (plus a few others). He will do anything for them. However, Crosshair isn't drawn to some bigger cause like Echo or Omega are. From my POV, it's something interesting to think about. What makes a good person? How far is one willing to go for someone they love? At what point does that loyalty and love turn selfish or self-destructive? These are all questions that Crosshair's character brings up.

I also appreciate the love and passion put into his character. Jennifer and the team took their time to give Cross a proper redemption. It wasn't as simple as "Crosshair just flips on a dime" or "he dies proving he still loved them." No. The change had to come from Crosshair. Crosshair had to be the one to make the steps towards coming home. It had to be his choice and his choice alone, not something that was forced onto him. I really appreciate that tbh. People are so complex and we all make mistakes. Crosshair made some pretty bad choices (not that he was 100% in control). Still, he had to figure things out for himself and when he was ready, he decided to come home.

His story- Crosshair's story is one of struggle and persevering in my eyes. "The Outpost" is one of the best depictions of what it's like to struggle with mental health. It's why I love it so much. I see a lot of myself in Crosshair. So often, it's much easier to just lie down and quit. But Crosshair doesn't quit. No. He fights. He fights so hard and in the end, he makes it. To see Crosshair come home after so long meant the world to me. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. You can and will make it. And he didn't do it alone. Omega continued to be a light in his life. Crosshair reminds me to never give up. Even when it all seems impossible, we need to keep going and there is hope for the future. When he meditates with Omega, I almost cried. That episode reminded me of my mom because she's constantly encouraging me and supporting me. She always tells me that I have to be the one to help myself. It's difficult and she will be there, but I can't just expect things to fix themselves. Similarly, Omega told Crosshair that he needed to help himself. I don't think I've ever related to a SW character as much as I have with Crosshair.

Crosshair has taught me so much about myself. Through him, I've learned that there's a lot going on in my head that I need to work on. I realized why S1 Hunter pissed me off so much. Because like Cross, there are times at home where I feel like no one listens. He taught me to keep going, to keep fighting, especially in times of great uncertainty. Crosshair and Omega's relationship shows just how special the impact of one person can have. I see their relationship reflected in my life in many ways. There's so much more I can say about Cross, but we would be here forever lol.

I am so grateful for Crosshair. I am so grateful for his story. He might be just a character, but he's really helped me tackle some rough times in my life. I love him with all my heart and will forever be thankful to TBB team for bringing his story to life.

Thank you DBB, Jen, Brad, Michelle, and everyone on TBB team. Thank you for everything ❤️

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair

[aotopmha]

I keep going on and on about the gameplay/story integration in Endwalker, but I think Vanaspati is another great example.

In my eyes it's a little bit of a milder narrative example than anything that came before, particularly all of the level 82-83 gameplay sections, but I think it excels at a different aspect of storytelling, which is specifically creating an atmospheric story set piece.

Especially the run towards the final boss feels incredibly impactful because of how massive in scale the destruction of the forest below is shown to be.

I've seen Vanaspati be compared to Holminster Switch and I agree with that comparison.

They're both equally good at creating a similar set piece of selling the scale of a new unknown enemy force with the difference that at this point in the story, we don't really understand the Blasphemies and how they truly work at all.

While Holminster sold us the horror based on knowing, Vanaspati sells it by us knowing basically nothing.

The revelations in the cutscenes after the dungeon fix this, and I just really like how the story manages to still create enemies that you fear after making some characters survive the craziest circumstances possible.

The nature of the Blasphemies is horrific because anyone who turns into one is automatically gone. The souls do not even get a chance to be reborn. They're just gone.

(Shoutout to the Arkasadora family turning into Blasphemies one by one as they succumb to despair at one point during the dungeon.)

I love, love the monster design for them. They were great in Amaurot and I dare say, the bosses in here are also mechanically more interesting. Amaurot is a great set piece, but I'm not sure I care for any of the bosses in there mechanically.

While I think there are some really neat mechanics here, particularly for the final boss.

I really like the "meteor" mechanic here. Was a cool variation in Zodiark, is cool here, too.

And with finishing Vanaspati and learning more of the foe we face, we're firmly back from the moon and at the lvl 85 quests, about half-way through Endwalker.

I have nothing else to say here, really. I think it's just a really good story.

#Final Fantasy 14 #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #FF14 #FF #Final Fantasy #Endwalker #EW

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

tumblr glitched and spared you all the most heated rant of my entire hoa fandom tenure

#idek what happened i answered the ask & hit post but it completely deleted LOL #I’m not gonna bother to reanswer anon’s ask so I’ll give you the abridged version: #i would not feel the need to post so much about season 3 of hoa if people would stop being such virulent haters #and hold this season to an entirely different standard than the other two #like it genuinely makes no sense #i cannot stress enough that you can like s3 the least #that’s your prerogative #but to be so LOUD and so WRONG #ALL THE TIME??? #makes me genuinely mental #SEASON 2 IS LITERALLY MY FAVORITE SEASON #but season 3 needs love and so it’s been 11 years of me giving her love #anyway i guess i just gave you a take version of my rant #and @ anon: fuck you LOL leave me alone once and for all #i love having discussions and deep dives tho please do not think I’m @ing anyone on here you guys are chill and smart #and make good points and do great work and i love you #but if you’re a genuine s3 hater please fuck off to someone else’s blog i BEG #AND if you’re the anon who refuses to leave me in peace? i hope your pillow is warm on both sides #tess rambles

[kimtaegis]

I’m feeling quite sad about how much the active bts fandom on tumblr has shrunk and/ or how selective the community has become regarding content interaction. I’ve heard people pointing out a clique-building here lately, and while I’m well aware of closer mutual circles existing – and I can only speak on behalf of my friend group here – these pretty much develop naturally when there’s just no one else who reacts, reblogs from and talks to you anymore except for these handful of people. I don’t like that some people perceive these “cliques” as “exclusive”, for example to content creators only. that’s bullshit; it’s certainly not great to have only other cc’s support your work because they personally know how much time and effort it takes. also, knowing how lovely most of these people are, you’d get immediately followed back and showered with love too as soon as you’d even show a speckle of kindness on a regular basis, regardless of whether you make gifs yourself or not. ccs dedicating sets to each other isn’t a sign of exclusivity, but rather us holding onto and appreciating people who still give us at least some motivation to create and post in the first place anymore, because there’s quite literally no one else left by now.

#this is rather general so I’m putting more personal thoughts in the tags here #I really don’t feel like creating anymore :( #like I genuinely only post for birthdays or gifts cause I see no point in anything else anymore #at least that one person will care you know #I don’t post that much anymore but when I do I put so much love and effort into it #and it never feels good to click that post button anymore #also. #man it fucking stings to realise that people who follow you definitely scrolled past your own post #cause they reblogged sth from you that you posted before your self reblog #it makes me so so anxious and insecure #I’ve been pressuring myself to post so much only to be met with dismissiveness when I do #that doesn’t feel great in the slightest #I said a while ago that I don’t want to take a break and that I want to keep creating #but the disappointment lately was pretty drastic #I’ve been at this point several times before so it’ll probably pass again #but it’ll never not suck to see your days of work and creativity be ignored #it feels once again pointless to try to make original things #should just stick to 10 gifs of the same clip #or shirtless tannie gifs #it’ll get me the exact same recognition if not three to five times more #and takes so much less time

[anothermonikan]

Ponee (It is half 3 in the morning)

#hey she didn't actually come out too bad! #I didn't show the last time I tried to draw Sunny but it didn't look great ehe ^^; #I think Ponies are gonna have to be a digital art only thing for now cause I had the select and drag so many elements of this #to make this look right sahsdhdshsdh #Yeah despite liking ponies since I've became a conscious thing I never drew them a bunch #and well. that's because I didn't start drawing properly until I was like. 11 years old. and I was super into something else then ehe ^^; #Sorry to get personal in the tags of an mlp art thing but I do think about how I always wanted to draw but like. #I was such a chronic perfectionist as a little little kid??? I HATED everything I tried to make XD #It makes me a little sad yknow? cause like. most kids don't give a shit they just draw whatever and it's beautiful and amazing #it makes me sad that I didn't allow myself to have that! I worked backwards IG lmao #little 6 year old hating everything she tried to make for not being perfect to me now where I love when my art is full of imperfections #that's the point of art!!! Have fun!!! It doesn't need to be perfect or even “good”! #because art is about expression yknow? and drawing stuff you like! #sorry this only took like an hour this should be on a more high-effort drawing sdhdhdshsd #Also um hi to the person who followed me for MLP G5 art?? I mostly post about puters and Ultrakill and Rain World here #But I do really love ponies I need to draw them more often XD #this is my whatever blog. I post whatever interests me here hehe #MLP #MLP G5 #Android Arts #Android.txt

[abirddogmoment]

This is a shout out to everyone who feels like they didn't do enough with their dogs this year.

Everyone who didn't reach their official or unofficial training goals.

Everyone who didn't go to a training class or practice as much as they wanted.

Everyone who didn't overcome or make progress on their dog's issues.

Everyone who didn't compete or trial or title.

There's so much pressure to prove yourself as a handler and prove your dog, especially right now when everyone's posting their accomplishments. But it's okay if the only thing you did this year was enjoy your dog.

That's the whole point of having a dog, and that's more than enough.

#dogblr #maverick #i know this sounds hypocritical because i did post my accomplishments #but let me remind you that mav spent two and a half years doing NOTHING #i felt so much pressure to title and prove him that i didnt enjoy any of it #it took so long for me to like mav because i felt we werent moving fast enough #and that sucks! #so if you didnt meet your goals this year #or if you feel you didnt make enough progress #hang in there and go tell your dog you love them #if you enjoyed your dog at any point this year? you did great #good work #and do it again next year